The Jondrette Girl
by teatime14
Summary: When Enjolras is cut off he moves in with Marius, where a chance encounter with his new neighbor Eponine inexplicably intertwines their lives together in the dawn of the Revolution.
1. Chapter 1

"Auguste, your behavior is absolutely ridiculous! All of this revolution business has gone too far this time," Enjolras' father scoffed. "I did not raise my son to be a no-good troublemaker."

"But father," Enjolras interjected, "I refuse to live like this while the poor are suffering under the inadequacies of the king!"

"Live like what? Like the upper class of society that we are? You are a priveleged boy, Auguste, and it's about time you started acting like one!"

Enjolras hated his father's condescending lectures as much as he hated being called by his stuffy first name. His father had found out about his recent revolutionary action through one of his connections in Paris, and he was far from pleased to hear that his son was participating in such treasonous efforts. Enjolras' family, of course, was exactly the kind of institution that Enjolras was protesting, a lavishly wealthy family that did little but squander their money for selflish purposes.

"You will soil the Enjolras family name with your idiotic schoolboy games!" his father continued to yell, his trim mustache twitching in anger with every syllable he spat.

"I hope you know that my intentions are quite serious. I am not doing this as some form of entertainment to keep myself busy," Enjolras replied, maintaining his straight face despite his father's startling rage.

"What about your studies? Why can't you take_ that_ serious?"

"I do, I assure you. I realize how important my education is," Enjolras said. "You know I've been getting top marks."

"You can bet I'd have thrown you out by now had you not!" his father rebuttled. "I just don't understand why you would sacrifice everything I've given you for this ridiculous treason. You have everything and you're still not satisfied!"

"It's not about myself, don't you see? I want to help others, those who are less fortunate than I have been."

"What have these common people ever done for you? I have no idea where you've formed such an attachment to street people!"

"Compassion, it's called compassion," Enjolras explained. Enjolras's father furrowed his brows and smoothed the slick corners of his mustache.

"I certainly did not anticipate that my only son would become a no-good hooligan," he spat.

"Where do you think I get my ambition from, father? We're more similar than you think."

"Don't even compare us, Auguste! I have made a fortune with my ambition, and instead of following in my footsteps you choose to squander your talents in this pointless cause. Either give up your little revolution, or give up your name and your fortune! The choice is yours."

Enjolras stared sternly at his father for a moment before speaking. The old man may have been stubborn, but he met his match in his son. "I choose the revolution, and liberty, and freedom, and equality. I will always choose France over anything, father. Patria is my one true love," Enjolras said. His father seemed to deflate a little and appeared worn and tired. He ran his hands over his face and massaged his temples as if the decision pained him.

"God, what will I do with you? You always were a spirited boy. Too much for your own good, I always said," the old man finally sighed. "I will give you one last chance. Will you put an end to this nonsense?"

"No."

"Then so be it. From this day you will receive none of the Enjolras fortune other than the money you require to continue your studies. I will gladly take you back should you wish to stop this revolutionary nonsense."

"Do you know nothing of me? I will never give up or abandon the cause. France will one day be a republic, and I don't care what it takes to get there," Enjolras replied hastily.

"That's enough, son! I've had enough of your talk. You have disapointed me more than I can say," Enjolras' father said as he walked with his son towards the door. "I hope you know that your mother and I are quite fond of you. We only want what is best for you."

"I know."

Once in the doorway, he nodded curtly to his son. "I wish you luck in your studies."

"Thank you... father," Enjolras said half heartedly as he turned and waked away from the house. Although Enjolras had personified confidence in talking to his father, reality sunk in as he left the only home he had ever known. Now he was without a home or family and with only a small amount of change in his pocket.

* * *

Enjolras met his friend and fellow student Combeferre in the Cafe Musain, their usual meeting place, where many of the other Friends of the ABC were gathered. Combeferre could most adequately be described as Enjolras's best friend, though most of their relationship was based on their mutual interest in the revolution. As usual, Enjolras found Combeferre sitting at a table in the corner of the room, surrounded by a stack of books and scribbling fiercely.

"Combeferre," Enjolras spoke in greeting. Combeferre looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, Enjolras. You do look quite unwell. What's the matter?" He indicated to the seat across him and Enjolras sat down stiffly.

"My father has finally cut me off," Enjolras said, looking out the window distractedly and running his hand through his thick hair. "I don't know what to do." Enjolras, who was normally the picture of cool confidence, was obviously distraught by his current situation. He was unused to the feeling of utter helplessness.

"I say, Enjolras doesn't know what to do?" Grantaire slurred from another table, bent over a half-drinken bottle of wine. "What can we do now our fierce leader is at a loss!" He laughed raucously and took a swig of the wine.

"Do you have any living arrangements then?" Combeferre asked, ignoring the drunken Grantaire. Enjolras sighed and shook his head. "Well, I suppose you could stay with me for now, though my room is already very cramped..."

"No, I couldn't intrude like that," Enjolras said. "I must make my own way and find a place of my own."

"Hey, Enjolras, I think I have something in mind," Marius spoke as he stood up to walk over to the man in question.

"And what would that be?" Enjolras said. He was generally impatient with Marius, who was much too soft and sentimental for Enjolras' liking, not to mention his dissenting political views, but he was willing to hear him out.

"I'm moving out of my grandfather's home in to a new place. It's nothing grand at all, far from it actually, but the rent is cheap and there would be plenty of space for the both of us. We could be roommates!" Marius explained, smiling. "Wouldn't that be great? Just the two of us, working and studying and making our own way without our families' inheritance."

Roommates... with Marius? It didn't seem like the ideal situation to Enjolras, but he was much too desperate to be picky. Besides, living in a humble space would help him sacrifice for the revolutionary cause. After all, there was no need for extravagance or luxury in a living space while many of the poor were living on the streets.

"It sounds like a deal, Marius. When could we move in?" Enjolras shook the gangly boy's hand.

"Perhaps today, if it all goes well," Marius said with a smile. "I've already talked with the landlady, and she was plenty glad to have a student move in. I only have to get my things and we can move in at a moment's notice!"

"That's good to hear, Marius," Enjolras said, finally cracking a smile. As much as Marius could get on his nerves, Enjolras appreciated the boy's sincerity. Perhaps rooming with him wouldn't be as awful as he expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Eponine sat on the hardened mattress in her one-room apartment as she tried to sew up the hem of her ragged skirt, though the limp fabric was beyond repair. She found herself all alone that evening, but it was a welcome change. She enjoyed the solitude and quietness that the room offered her when her family was out. Her parents had been missing since morning, no doubt planning their next crime, and her sister Azelma was surely trailing not far behind.

Her mind wandered to an old fairy tale her mother had told her and her sister when they were very young, and yet it had remained clear in her memory through all the years. It was the story of _Cendrillon_, a beautiful young woman who was enslaved by her stepmother and stepsisters and made to wear rags and do all of their chores. But when Cendrillon went to the King's ball, the handsome prince fell in love with her, and when he found out who she really was it made no difference to him. He knew what she was and loved her all the same for it.

The story had captivated Eponine when she was younger, even spurring her to pretend that she herself was Cendrillon, but over the years it had lost its enchantment. Her mother had told her many other similar tales and none of them had turned out to be even remotely similar to her own life. They were nothing but sentimental old stories that inspired false hopes and pointless dreams, for what had all that childhood wonder come to? A barren room, criminal record, empty stomach, and ragged clothes. Eponine really had become Cendrillion just as she'd always wished, only her story had no happy ending.

In the middle of Eponine's musings the door abruptly swung open and her family barged in, first her father, then her mother, and finally Azelma following behind. In her surprise Eponine pricked her finger with the sewing needle, drawing a small dot of blood that smeared in with the dirt on her hands.

"Eponine, you won't believe the luck we just had!" Madame Thenardier shrieked happily.

"Where have you all been?" Eponine asked them

"Nevermind that, we've just gotten some new neighbors," Thenardier said with a smirk. Eponine said nothing and continued her sewing. She could see where this conversation was going.

"_Rich_ new neighbors," her mother corrected with a smirk.

"Yeah, and why would anyone rich move in here?" Eponine replied. "Everyone knows it's a rat's nest."

"I dunno!" her father said, putting his hands out in an exagerrated motion. "No doubt they're a stupid couple of rich blokes! Students, bloody students, I tell you."

"Students?" Eponine said. She had seen students in the streets occasionally, well-dressed young men with fancy speech and arms full of books. They had always had a mysterious air around them. At the same time they inspired a strange loathing in her that those rich boys only had to worry about their schooling and not about their next meal.

"Yeah, Eponine, they're real students," Azelma spoke for the first time, moving to sit next to Eponine on the hard mattress. "They even got books and all that."

"Well of course students got books," Madame Thenardier said. "God knows it's all they're good for."

"These students have got to be _loaded _with cash, like little inheritance gold mines!" Thenardier said, rubbing his hands together. Eponine hadn't seen her father so happy since he had pick pocketed a rich gentleman the week before and spent all the money on an alcohol binge. He moved over to the rickety table and began to write a note on a blank piece of paper. "It wouldn't be right to make them keep all that money for themselves, now would it?"

"You don't plan on robbin' them now, do you?" Eponine spat. "I'm not going to jail for you again!" For a girl of sixteen Eponine had been to jail far too many times, mostly on account of her father's poorly planned moneymaking schemes.

"Don't be so selfish, Eponine," her mother hissed, turning to face the girl. "Who do you think feeds you and clothes you, you ungrateful girl!"

"I'm sure we'd all have a bit more food if Papa didn't spend all of our money on his drinking!" Eponine said as she stood up angrily. "Maybe we'd even still have our inn and a bit o' dignity!" Eponine knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but all of the bitter feelings she had for her parents were hard to contain all the time, especially with her fiery temper.

Eponine's mother glared at her and seemed about to slap her, but her father only laughed, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"No doubt I can milk every cent out of those bloody students!" he cheered, holding up his letter and kissing it. He stood up and turned to Eponine, who had shrunken back on to the mattress. "Eponine, go give this letter to the school boys. Hurry now, and maybe we'll have some bread today after all." He grinned, showing his yellow, rotted teeth.

"I'm tired of delivering your letters. Why don't you make Zelma do it," Eponine replied indignantly, crossing her arms.

"I could do it, papa! I would," Azelma volunteered, eagerly seeking her father's approval as usual. Azelma was a simple girl so starved for affection, she would do her father's bidding just for a sliver of attention from him.

"Not Azelma, she's too fat to convince them we're poor. She'd mess it up anyways" Thenardier said bluntly. Azelma's face fell and she scowled. She wasn't fat at all, but compared to the thin and wiry Eponine Azelma had plenty of meat on her bones. "Besides, Eponine is much prettier. Maybe she could even offer her services to them and make a few extra coins."

"Papa!" Eponine exclaimed. She was hardly surprised, but still disgusted, by her father's suggestion. "I won't deliver it, and I definitely won't be doing any of that!"

"You listen here, girl," Thenardier said, his voice getting low and threatening. "You will deliver this letter or you will be having none of our bread for three weeks. Now go, they're right next door." It was a command, not a request, and Eponine finally relinquished and obeyed.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll give them the stupid letter. But after that I ain't never showing my face to them again." She turned to leave when her mother stopped her.

"Wait, girl, you won't be leaving the house like that!" she said. She bent over and ripped her newly repaired skirt and one of the thin sleeves on her blouse. The madame then tousled Eponine's curly black hair and smeared more dirt on her brown face. "There, now you look like a proper waif." She shoved Eponine out the door with the letter in hand and slammed the door behind her.

_That's exactly what I needed_, Eponine thought bitterly. _To look even more pathetic than I already do._

With a sinking feeling in her stomach Eponine approached the wooden door next to her own family's room. She quickly fixed her hair and wiped her face clean before quickly knocking and looking down at the floor in anticipation. She silently prayed that they weren't home and she'd be spared the impending humiliation, but after a few short moments she could hear the door swing open.

"Good evening, Monsieur," Eponine said quietly, still looking at the floor and avoiding looking up. From the man's shoes alone she could tell he was a gentleman, polished shoes finer than any she had seen before. She herself couldn't remember the last time she had worn shoes on her dirt-crusted feet.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," the man said, polite but somewhat apprehensive at the ragged girl at his doorstep. Eponine blushed to be formally addressed (it was hardly fitting, but flattering nonetheless) and finally drew her eyes up to the young man before her. Her cheeks grew even warmer as their eyes met and she took in his handsome features, thick blond hair, and tall, lean figure. He didn't look real, almost like an angelic Greek god with a marble face to match. She was struck with such a strange fluttering feeling in her chest that she didn't even consider how the handsome student might see her.

"I have a letter for you, sir. It's from my father," she said, embarrassment burning inside her at the no-doubt shameless contents of the letter. She stuck out her hand with the wrinkled piece of paper and looked down at the floor again.

"Who is at the door, Enjolras?" another man called from within the room. _It must be the other student_, Eponine thought. Moments later, another young man with brown hair and pleasant features came to stand by the door.

"Monsieur." Eponine bowed her head in greeting and stuck her hand out with the letter again.

"Oh, hello. I'm Marius, and this is my friend Enjolras. Um.. do you want to come inside?" Marius said as he took the letter from Eponine's hand.

"I couldn't-" she said, feeling out of place among the well-dressed young men.

"Please, do," the friendly young man encouraged. The other man flashed him a look but said nothing. Eponine gave in and entered the room. It was certainly nicer and more spacious than her family's, but still nothing worthy of these rich students.

Realizing she hadn't introduced herself, Eponine said, "I'm Eponine... Jondrette." Her family had taken up the name to escape their debt and all other negative association of 'Thenardier'. Her father had earned quite a reputation. "Your room is much nicer than our's. And look you even have a mirror!"

Eponine examined her reflection and immediately regretted doing so. Her clothes didn't fit right and seemed to hang off her thin frame while offering little modest, not to mention their ragged state and dull color. Even worse was her hair, which had become a tangled mass of curls, like a bird's nest, in her neglect of it. Her facial features still held a vague sense of prettiness through everything, but it was overshadowed by the dark circles under her eyes as well as the abundant amount of dirt, bruises, and scratches that covered every surface of her body. Eponine quickly turned away with shame. Even the mirror, with its fine frame and glossy surface, was more beautiful than she was.

"What's made you two move in to this place? It seems like it'd be below the standards of types like you," Eponine said, forcing a smile on to her face.

"This was the only place we could afford," Enjolras said bluntly as he absentmindedly opened the letter. Him and Marius bent over the letter as they began to read.

"Really? A couple of rich students like you?" Eponine pried.

"We are not so rich any more," Marius said, looking up from the letter for a moment. "Our families have cut us off."

_Father won't like that_, Eponine thought. He seemed to think the students were loaded with money. She shuddered to think of his reaction and how he might punish her if she should fail at her task. The room went silent again as the young men continued reading, no doubt trying hard to decipher her father's horrid penmanship and spelling.

"Can you excuse Marius and I for a moment?" Enjolras asked Eponine hesitantly when he was done reading the letter. Eponine shrugged and nodded before leaving the room. Even when they obviously didn't want her there the students were polite. Eponine was unaccustomed to such kindness, especially from complete strangers, and wasn't sure how to handle it. She stood outside waiting until she could no longer stand it, finally pressing her ear to the door to listen in on their whispered conversation.

"We should do something," a voice, probably Marius', said. "They haven't eaten for three days!" Eponine shook her head at her father's exaggeration. They had just eaten last night.

"Marius, we have no money to spare. What can we do."

"Look, see... I have two francs in my pocket. Perhaps we can at least spare that much."

"They are our neighbors. If we simply give them money today, money that we cannot afford to spare, perhaps they will only keep returning to ask for more. How can we help all of France if we just give money away? We must devote ourselves to the cause for the good of all," Eponine heard Enjolras say, smiling a little bit at his words. She wasn't too sure of what he was saying, but she liked the way he talked. He sounded so confident and refined.

"But she really is a pitiful thing. Didn't you see how thin and filthy she was?" Marius said. Enjolras sighed in response.

"As are many in France. Although I suppose we can spare a few francs in this case, though we must be sure not to make it a habit or very soon _we_ will be the beggars."

"You're much too serious. Everything will be fine, I'm sure."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. For now it is only fitting for us to help the cause in any way we can, and if that means donating to an unfortunate family, so be it." Eponine heard footsteps coming towards the door and she quickly moved away from it.

"Mademoiselle, please take this," Enjolras said rather bluntly, handing her two francs. "We wish your family well in these difficult times." Eponine took the money and nodded gratefully.

"Thank- thank you, Monsieur Enjolras. This will mean a lot to my family," she said quietly. She felt guilty for taking what little money the students owned, especially when her father would probably end up spending the coins on alcohol. With a knot in her stomach and a quick final glance at the handsome student, Eponine hurried down the hall and back to her family's room, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. They had only given her money out of pity for her tragic situation, and that was the worst feeling in the world. She opened the door and her family all turned to face her.

"What did you get?" her mother asked, hurrying over to see what Eponine held in her hand. Eponine unfurled her fingers and showed the two francs.

"That's it?" Thenardier bellowed, snatching up the money. "That's all those cheap students would hand over?"

"They are not as rich as you think," Eponine said. "And so you'd better not make me go back there again!"

"Bullshit! Those bourgeois are holding out on us," Therdardier said angrily. "Did you offer yourself up to them, 'Ponine?"

"Of course not! And even if I did they would not have me. They are true gentlemen, unlike any of our crowd."

"Yeah? And if they're true _gentleman_ why did they only give us two measly francs?" Madame Thenardier said mockingly.

"I've already told you, haven't I! They are not really rich at all!" Eponine said, crossing her arms. "They got cut off from their families, barely got a franc more than we do."

"So they're cheap _and_ liars," Thenardier said with a scowl. "Eponine, tomorrow you're to follow them and see what they're up to."

"Yes, Papa," Eponine said without protest for once. For one thing, she didn't want to further upset her father. On the other hand, she also found that she was fascinated by the students. They seemed so different, like a strange new species full of mystique and glamour. Even though she would be mortified if they caught her following them, she couldn't help but want to see them again, even if for only a moment...

"Can't I go too!" Azelma said. "I want to see these students!"

"Why should I care," Thenardier said. "Just find out where they're hiding all their money."

"Will we have bread tonight, papa?" Eponine ventured. "I did get two francs after all." Thenardier chuckled.

"Two francs... HA! We'll all have a little treat tonight then, won't we, with such a generous donation," he said snarkily. "Come along, my dear." Him and the madame left the room together, with the madame loudly complaining about Eponine's uselessness and the student's cheapness. Eponine blushed to consider that the students might be able to hear her mother's loud complaints in the hall.

Once they were gone, Eponine took to sewing up her skirt again on the hard mattress. Azelma sat beside her and watched her work.

"Eponine, what were the students like?" Azelma asked. Eponine put down her sewing for a moment and looked up at her sister. Azelma was watching her intently with her large brown eyes, eager to hear of the strange new boarders.

"Different," Eponine said, a smile coming to her face. "But they were really very charming, and handsome, too, of course."

"Handsome?" Azelma said with a smile. "Like a prince?"

"Handsomer," Eponine laughed, enjoying her childish musings with her sister.

"Perhaps if I meet them they will fall in love with me then."

"Oh, stop it, you're only fourteen," Eponine teased, shoving her sister. "And no boy would look at you with that bush of hair." Azelma pouted and shoved her back, but self consciously tried to flatten her frizzy mass of curls. Her dark brown hair didn't quite reach her shoulders as she had gotten it all cut off the year before. Her hair had once been even longer than Eponine's, but their father had requested that his youngest daughter sell her hair so he could make a few coins. Azelma, of course, had complied with little protest. Thenardier wouldn't let Eponine do the same, afraid it would destroy her looks and any chance he had to market her out to men, though she had never complied with her father's wish of her making money as a whore. That was one thing she would never do.

"I expect you think you can keep the students for yourself!" Azelma huffed. "Like they'll both fall in love with you!"

"Of course not. Princes don't fall in love with girls like me," Eponine scoffed. "Love's got nothing to do with it. We just have to follow them tomorrow, you hear?"

Azelma scowled. "I was only playing. You're much too serious sometimes, you know that?"

"With a silly sister like you at least one of us has got to be serious," Eponine said as she continued her futile efforts to repair her skirt. When Azelma wasn't looking, though, she gave in to a small smile. _You're much too serious_. They were the exact same words that Marius had spoken to Enjolras earlier. Their eyes had met once, but that one time was enough to leave Eponine just a little bit in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Eponine woke up early the next day to make sure she'd be ready when the students went out for the day. She slipped on her usual outfit, a thin blouse, tattered skirt, and a cap to cover her thick head of unruly hair.

"Azelma, wake up," Eponine whispered as she shook her sister awake from the mattress they shared. Azelma groaned and tried to hit her sister away. "Come on, Zelma, the students will leave without us." Curiosity over the mysterious students eventually made the girl's eyes open slowly as she got out of bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," Azelma groaned. "This had better be worth it." Eponine rolled her eyes at her sister's laziness. The girl was practically fit to be a bourgeois.

As Azelma prepared to leave Eponine looked around the room for any bread leftover from the loaf her father had bought the night before. It had been a hard, blackened loaf, but Eponine was grateful for any food she received. As she was searching through the cluttered room she spotted a small hole in the wall behind a stack of empty crates. Moving the crates aside, Eponine leaned over and peered through the little hole.

Based on the location of the hole in the wall, Eponine could tell that the room on the other side was the students' room. It was dark and almost impossible to see, but she thought she could make out some movement. She jumped away from the hole and moved the crates back but kept the hole in mind, thinking it could be useful to her in the future. To spy on the students, that is. She practically groaned at the shamefulness of it, but couldn't help her undeniable curiosity.

"Azelma!" she whispered. Her sister looked up and sleepily rubbed her eyes. "Let's go!" She grabbed her sister's wrist and silently snuck out of the room, down the stairs, and out the building to wait for the students to walk by.

"Eponine, it's barely dawn," Azelma complained as she yanked her wrist away from Eponine's tight grip. "The students won't even be up yet!"

"There's a chance they might be. After all, students aren't as lazy as you," Eponine replied coolly. She grabbed her sister's wrist again and moved into the alley next to their building so they wouldn't be in plain sight when the students emerged. The alley was cold and unfriendly, causing Eponine to shiver in her thin clothes, but she wouldn't risk hanging about in plain sight.

"What if they go to university? We're not gonna follow them there, are we?" Azelma asked.

"I dunno... I guess we could. We'd stand out something awful, though, wouldn't we? Two waifs among the bourgeois..."

"We could get a disguise!" Azelma suggested.

"Hmmm, yeah? And dress up like what exactly?" Eponine laughed with an unladylike snort.

"Whatever we want to. I can dress up like a rich lady with a big fancy gown, I could even get a parasol and everything, and you... you can be my servant girl!" Azelma chattered away. "We'd look really classy, I tell you. Maybe not you so much, but me definitely."

"You're so silly sometimes. Where would we find a big fancy gown fit for a rich girl like you?" Eponine said, entertaining her sister's imaginative thoughts.

"I'm just saying it's a possibility!" Azelma protested at Eponine's teasing. "You never listen to my ideas!"

"Maybe some other time, Azelma. You're forgetting we've got no other clothes to wear, let alone anything that could pass as a disguise."

"We could ask mama and papa to find us some," Azelma suggested. "They know where to look for things like that."

"They know where to steal for things. There's a difference," Eponine corrected her sister.

"And what's so wrong with that? What would it matter if we stole from someone rich? They could have anything they want! If I stole some fancy dress then they could just buy an even fancier one to replace it. We'd be doin' them a favor, you see," Azelma said. Eponine shook her head.

"Look at you, just wanting to steal anything you want. You've been around mama and papa for too long now, that's for sure. I guess you're too young to remember the time that we actually had some dignity," Eponine scoffed haughtily.

"Don't act like you're so perfect!" Azelma shot back defensively. "You steal plenty of things and help in Papa's jobs more than I do!"

"I only do what I have to to survive. I don't go stealing other people's clothes just so I can play dress up," Eponine snapped, impatient with her sister's immature whining.

Still, Eponine had to admit that Azelma was right about her. She had done terrible things in the past without much of a second thought, so did that make her as bad as her own parents? She certainly hadn't meant to be a bad person. She had only been playing the unlucky hand she'd been dealt in life. But why was she doubting all of her criminal actions now when it had been a regular way of living for her for much of her life?

"It was only an idea," Azelma muttered crossly. Eponine suddenly tensed and shushed her sister as she heard the sound of footsteps coming from around the corner. She peeked out of the alley to look around, but saw no one. _That's odd_, she thought._ I could have sworn I heard footsteps._

"Looking for someone?" a chilling voice said from behind her. Eponine turned to see Montparnasse, the dandy from her father's gang who was no more than a year or two older than her. He could be pleasant on the rare occasion, but Eponine certainly didn't feel like dealing with his antics today. Especially when she had a mission to fulfill that she wanted him to know nothing about.

"Oh, it's only you," Eponine said with a frown. She retreated back to her position by Azelma, closely followed by Montparnasse.

"And what are you two doing out at this time in the morning? Up to no good, surely," Montparnasse said with a toothy grin. Though he was dressed in clothes that were cut in the highest fashion, their worn quality and poor stitching revealed his low stature. However aggravating and pesky Montparnasse could be, Eponine had to admit he wasn't bad looking, at least compared to the other men who frequented the slums. The tall boy had a strong jaw, prominent nose, and narrow green eyes hidden by dark brows. His black hair was short and surprisingly well kept, given his status.

She had heard many girls giggle foolishly over him, and he certainly wasn't afraid to pursue ladies shamelessly. In fact, his attention seemed to flit so often between his objects of affection that Eponine imagined he had been with most of the young women of the area... All of the women but Eponine, of course. And Azelma, if she even counted. The poor young girl was so caught up in trying to act mature and get attention that most of the time she was like an irritating and neglected puppy, which was certainly not very attractive to any men. Her round face and large eyes paired with her short stature also made her look much younger than she was, almost childlike.

"I could say the same of you," Eponine replied, purposely being evasive. She was determined not to tell Montparnasse of their real mission as he was the last person she would ever want to know of it. He would no doubt only try to rob the school boys or tease them endlessly for their "stupidity" and "uselessness". He was not fond of students at all, or any bourgeoise for that matter. They only reminded Montparnasse of how far below them he was despite all of his attempts at sophistication and flair.

"Well, whatever it is you two are up to you can count me in. I doubt I'll find finer company elsewhere at this hour," Montparnasse said with what was meant to be a charming smile. Azelma giggled foolishly while Eponine looked away, embarrassed both at her sister's overt flirtatiousness and at Montparnasse's insinuations. She picked her brain for a suitable lie to throw off the young dandy.

"Actually, Montparnasse, we were only out this morning to deliver a letter for our father. One of his business dealings, you know how it is," Eponine explained, the lies rolling off her tongue easily. Azelma kept her mouth shut but glared at her, a bitter look Eponine avoided.

"What sort of business?" Montparnasse asked, sounding bored after learning that the girls weren't up to anything exciting. The boy's attention was easily lost, much to Eponine's advantage.

"It was a letter to a wealthy philanthropist," Eponine lied further. "He was hoping they'd make a hefty donation to us. You know how them rich folks are, trying to clear their conscience by giving a penny to the poor."

"A wealthy philanthropist, you say? I want in," Montparnasse said, his fleeting interest sparked at the story. Eponine kicked herself inside for tangling herself in such a web of lies. There was only one way out: to lie further.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I shouldn't have even told you about it. Y'know how greedy he is... the old fool wants all the money to himself. And our family hasn't eaten in three days, y'know... we really need the money," Eponine said, reusing her father's lie. Azelma, meanwhile, scowled at the ground, indifferent to the conversation in her wounded anger.

"I'll tell the old man myself then! He thinks he can hide a job like this from the Patron-Minette? This could be big!" Montparnasse exclaimed. At this point Eponine felt like knocking Montparnasse out and running to escape the situation she'd gotten herself in to. His inquisitiveness was extremely frustrating.

"It's probably best you don't do that, Montparnasse. I'll talk to him for you. I can make him see reason to include you in on the deal," Eponine said. She cursed herself for the lies that spilled out of her mouth so effortlessly. Now he expected to be let in on an actual deal that didn't exist in the first place!

"You'll tell him right now?" Montparnasse said, narrowing his eyes and raising his thick eyebrows.

"Yeah, Azelma and I were just heading home right now anyways," Eponine confirmed.

"We don't have to go right away, Eponine," Azelma whined. "Papa is prob'ly not even up yet!"

"Hush, Azelma," Eponine hissed. "We can't disappoint father, or our friend Montparnasse for that matter." Azelma frowned and continued to look down.

"Let me know, 'Ponine. I'll be waiting," Montparnasse said with a cocky smile as he started to walk away. Still sensing his eyes on her, though, Eponine started to lead Azelma back to their building to keep the appearance that they were going to talk with their father.

"You're not a very good liar," Azelma said with a sassy smile, content to see her sister's failure.

"Yeah, well thanks for all the help," Eponine muttered back, glaring at her sister. "If you weren't so foolishly pining for Montparnasse you could've at least helped me out a bit."

"And how is admiring a man like Montparnasse foolish?" Azelma said haughtily. "He is a gentleman, a handsome one, too." Eponine scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"If you think Montparnasse is a gentleman, you have yet to see a real one, girl," Eponine said. The pair reached the door to their building and Eponine quickly glanced back to see if Montparnasse was watching. He wasn't visible in the early light of the morning, but she still felt somehow that he was watching. The boy was infamously sneaky when he needed to be. "Now hush as we go inside. We shan't be waking up the whole building now."

Eponine opened the door and crept inside, careful not to make any sound on the notoriously creaky floorboards. She was about to advance up the stairs when Azelma tugged on her skirt and pulled her back down. "Wait, 'Ponine!"

"What?" Eponine hissed quietly as she turned to Azelma.

"What will we tell Papa? He'll be angry we didn't do as he asked!" Azelma whispered urgently.

"Let him be, we're not his slaves," Eponine replied with much more vigor and confidence than she felt. She could imagine the stinging pain of her father's slap that often occurred when Eponine didn't satisfy him.

"Please, Eponine, we can't just disobey him like that! Please!" Azelma was pleading now, her round eyes looking as if they were on the verge of tears. As much as Azelma seemed to admire her father, most of that obedience came out of the fear she had for the man. She always did all of his bidding without a word of protest so as not to disappoint him.

"Well what do you suggest we do? We don't have much of a choice here!" Eponine shot back.

"Let's just follow the students like he asked, please Eponine! If Montparnasse bothers us just tell him Papa was sleeping, that we'll talk to him later," Azelma begged, pulling on her sister's thin arm. Eponine thought for a while before sighing and backing off the staircase.

"Fine, fine. But we'll have to face Papa and Montparnasse eventually. You and me both know there's no rich philanthropist and no letter... and now it's me who's got to fix us out of this mess. So you can't be getting in my way, y'hear? No more silliness from you," Eponine said.

"Yes, yes, Eponine! I'll be good!" Azelma said with a relieved smile. "No more bein' silly, I swear it."

"We got to get back outside again to wait for the students now," Eponine said as she started to creep towards the door. The sound of footsteps shuffling around upstairs made both of the girls freeze in their tracks. The footsteps moved across the floor and began to step quickly down that stairs. _Damnit!_

Eponine took Azelma's wrist and flattened herself to the wall parallel to the staircase. She prayed that the dark shadows in the poorly lit room would be enough to hide them from the advancing feet.

As Eponine watched the staircase scrutinizingly she made out two forms gliding down the staircase- well dressed and arms full of books. The students, of course. She made an effort to press herself even further into the wall, desperate to remain unseen. Eponine thought she was successful as the students neared the door when one of them, the handsome blond with the melodious speech, turned his head in her direction and their eyes locked. Though the look shared between them lasted no more than a moment, Eponine felt transfixed by his gaze and found herself frozen against the wall. She saw understanding pass through his eyes as he obviously recognized her as the Jondrette girl, the girl who had been in his room only the night before. And Eponine was sure she sensed something else there, too- pity, no doubt.

The student snapped his head forward again to look away quickly and followed his indifferent friend out the door. As the young man slipped out the door, though, Eponine thought she saw him glance once more in her direction. Her cheeks burned in his recognition of her. How she had wished he would never see her again, so she would never have to be reminded of the shame she felt for her inferior class. And yet, a part of her rejoiced to share that one look with him, to be acknowledged by someone like... what was his name again?

"Eponine, let's go! We have to follow them!" Azelma whispered as she tugged at Eponine's arm.

"What?" Eponine said, Azelma's words breaking her stream of thoughts. She shook her head to snap herself out of her foolish daze and followed her sister out the door and into the dawning light of day. She could make out the backs of the two students as they headed down the street purposefully. _Surely off to do something important and meaningful_, Eponine thought. As she and her sister followed them from a distance through the shadows, a thought finally came to Eponine. _Enjolras_. That was the student's name. Eponine smiled and continued on her way wordlessly, the student's name running through her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Eponine found that the students were not particularly difficult to follow. They stuck to the main streets and moved at a brisk but steady pace. Still, though, she kept her eyes glued to them the whole time her and Azelma moved through the shadows, afraid that the students would slip through her fingers. There was too much riding on this mission now to fail.

Eponine and Azelma had been following the young men for nearly a half hour and the streets were beginning to become more crowded as Paris was finally waking up. Azelma's eyes wandered everywhere around the streets as she took in all the sights that the city had to offer. She didn't get out much, and if she did it was to pass through dark and shady streets on their father's business. The girls followed the students closer now that the crowded streets threatened to swallow up their targets. From such a short distance Eponine could even faintly make out the students' light banter as they strolled along.

"Look at all of the pretty ladies out today," she heard the dark-haired student, Marius, say to Monsieur Enjolras. "Paris really does have a great many beauties."

"I didn't notice," Enjolras replied impassively.

"You're telling me you aren't interested in anyone?"

"I am sure I have told you nearly a hundred times now, Marius. A heart so devoted to the love of my country has no room to love another. Besides, women are fickle and love is passing," Enjolras replied coolly.

_So he won't love another woman? I suppose an unloved woman like me would have even less of a chance with him then_, Eponine thought humorously, as if she had had any chance with him in the first place. She found, though, that she preferred the fact that Enjolras refused to fall in love. It would have pained her to find that some fancy bourgeois woman held his affections. The two had only talked once briefly, and yet she already considered him to be her's, a thought that made her smile softly to herself._ Yes, my lonely, handsome student._

Eponine had never been one to swoon over boys before. It was always Azelma who would talk of young men and love while Eponine would listen with humor to her sister's sentimental speeches. Eponine would sometimes daydream of such things, though, of handsome men and passionate love, but only in her private thoughts as a way to make her dull life tolerable. All of the men she had met before were rude, greedy, or just downright disgusting. She had never seen a man like Enjolras, so confident, noble, and chivalrous. Perhaps that was why the gentleman had been on her mind since the first time she laid eyes on his handsome face.

"There's a perfect person for everybody, and who says that you are an exception? You are too cynical, my friend," Marius said lightly.

"And you are much too romantic. Where have you gotten all of these pre-conceived notions of love in your head, Marius? I'm sure you have never been in love either, so why do you bother me for being so impassive?" Enjolras said, a slight annoyance creeping into his voice.

"You are not only impassive, you are _unwilling_!" Marius continued. "I have not met the perfect girl yet, but I do know that she is out there. You are not even open to love. The very idea is appalling to you, isn't it!"

"I do admit that I find it a silly waste of time, especially now, with calls for a revolution rising up in the streets. Now more than ever we must remain dedicated to the cause without distractions."

Azelma nudged Eponine and quietly said, "He's quite the bore, don't you think?" Eponine ignored her sister and continued to tune into the conversation. She was curious as to what this cause was that Enjolras kept referring to.

"You are quite stubborn, Enjolras. I can see where your determination stems from," Marius replied.

"Yes... my determination," Enjolras muttered, sounding distracted. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk any longer on the subject, and so the pair continued to walk on in silence. A few short minutes later they seemed to arrive at their destination- The Cafe Musain. Eponine watched them walk inside and pulled Azelma off to the side of the building.

"Shouldn't we follow them?" Azelma asked, her eyes staying on the door that the students had just disappeared into.

"I don't know," Eponine said, unsure of what to do next. She feared discovery by the students more than anything, but they had also promised to find out more information about them for their father.

"Who cares if they see us?" Azelma said, seeming to read Eponine's mind. "We got a right to be in a cafe, y'know!"

"Yeah, but..." Eponine trailed off. Her heart pounded and her cheeks flushed to think that Monsieur Enjolras might catch a glimpse of her in there. What would he think?

"You can stay here like a coward if you like, but I'm going in there!" Azelma said, for once taking the lead instead of Eponine. She marched to the cafe entrance and reached out for the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming, you!" Eponine protested, running to open the door before Azelma. "I can't have you screwing everything up now we're so close." Azelma smirked with satisfaction and followed behind Eponine obediently.

Eponine was relieved to see that the cafe was filled with patrons, ensuring her that two young girls wouldn't stand out as much as she feared. The room was not spacious, but the crowded tables and warm atmosphere made it feel cozy and lively. There were several men at the bar, groups around the tables, and bodies moving to and fro, but nowhere was there any sign of the students.

"How did we lose them?" Azelma squealed. "I saw them with my own eyes walk in here!" Eponine scanned around the room, puzzled at the way the students seemingly disappeared. Her stomach dropped at the possibility that her and Azelma would have to go home empty handed. No, Eponine thought. They must be somewhere. Seeing a woman working behind he bar, Eponine marched to the counter with Azelma following closely behind.

"Excuse me?" Eponine said, keeping her hat low over her face so that the woman couldn't make out her features. "Do you know if there's a Monsieur Enjolras or Monsieur Marius here?"

The plump woman regarded Eponine with suspicion as she took in her tattered clothes and dirty appearance. "Yeah, and so what if there is? What business do you have with boys like that?"

"Monsieur Marius is my cousin," Eponine lied quickly. "My family has fallen into a rough patch recently, so my dear cousin promised a meal here for me and my poor sister."

The woman's suspicion failed to subside at the unconvincing story, but her patience was so worn thin she relinquished the information with a frown.

"You can find them upstairs," the woman said bluntly as she pointed out a staircase on the side of the cafe. Eponine had seen it earlier but had figured that upstairs were the living quarters for the owners of the cafe.

"Thank you, Madame," Eponine said as she and Azelma headed over to the staircase. She climbed each step with growing anxiety at what she might find on the second floor. If the only people presently upstairs were Marius and Enjolras, the girls would surely be discovered. With most of the stairway conquered, Eponine peeked her head up to look into the room. She could see a forest of feet crowding the room, and lifting her eyes a little she could tell that it was crowded with young men who all seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations.

Eponine signaled to Azelma and the two snuck up the rest of the staircase, still remaining unseen. Once in the room the two hid in the shadows to search for Marius and Enjolras. Among so many other well-dressed men- Eponine assumed that most of them were students as well- it was difficult to attempt to differentiate the two men they sought after.

Eponine eventually spotted Enjolras on the other end of the room, his commanding presence hard to miss. He was talking within a group of young men. Moving carefully and silently, Eponine creeped along the edge of the room so that she was close enough to listen to what Enjolras was saying. Once she was satisfied with her close proximity, she crouched down on the floor with Azelma.

"We do not have the numbers for such a thing!" she heard one man protest to Enjolras. "How do you expect us to stand a chance against the armies of France?" _Against the armies of France? They must be talking about their revolution, that thing Monsieur Enjolras keeps mentioning_, Eponine thought. She found herself strangely intrigued at the idea and listened further for any more information.

"We will not stand alone- the people must rise to battle with us. Together we will stand as one strong unit. I assure you, we are not the only ones investing in this, whispering about a new France," Enjolras said.

"How do we know they'll even want to join us?" another student asked.

"It is the people's fight we are fighting, Joly. What makes one man better than another? Is he inherently better because he was born to a higher class? The poor should not be condemned to such a despicable fate that they have no control over. If one man is to prosper, all men must prosper!" Enjolras said. His loud speech had commanded the attention of the rest of the room as all other conversation fell quiet. "If the men of France are not guaranteed the minimum of life, liberty, and property, then how can any of us stand by idly? It is this very spirit of equality that will move the people to join in our fight."

Eponine pulled her knees in closer to her body as she considered Enjolras' words. He was fighting for her own kind, for the good of the poor, she had managed to gather. She wondered what drove him to care for the poor at all when he himself was a comfortable bourgeoise. Why should he even blink at the lives of the wretched?

But he spoke with such passion and conviction that it was impossible not to be stirred up at his speech. Eponine noticed that even the thick Azelma looked somewhat puzzled, as if she was contemplating the student's words.

Enjolras and the students continued in their conversation, but Eponine was still lost in her own thoughts. She never realized that one could be so unselfish, so giving. All her life she'd really only looked out for herself and done things out of her own will. Eponine was ashamed at herself all at once as she reflected on what she really was- a hardened criminal with her own selfish agenda. At one time she would have been proud to say that. Now, the truth only sounded hollow and cruel... her life had even less meaning than she had ever realized.

Eponine snapped out of her own depressing thoughts and tuned back into the students' conversations. She was listening intently while staring at the floorboards when her sister shook her. Eponine looked up inquisitively.

"One of the students is leaving, the one with the darker hair!" Azelma whispered as she pointed to the young man heading down the staircase.

"Monsieur Marius?" Eponine asked as she craned her neck to get a glimpse of the fleeing student.

"Yeah, that's the one! Let's follow him!" Azelma confirmed as she started to get up.

"But Monsieur Enjolras is still here," Eponine reminded her sister as she looked at the handsome student, who was still busy in conversation. "We'll split up. You follow him and I'll stay here."

"On my own out there?" Azelma said, a nervous shaking in her voice. The girl didn't like to go out alone and was terrified of the streets. She was also terrified of her own shadow, though.

"Yes, and hurry!" Eponine whispered, giving her sister a nudge in the direction of the stairs. With one final apprehensive look behind her, Azelma fled down the stairs and after Marius. Content to wait for Enjolras, Eponine moved to sit underneath a near table, a secure hiding place protected by a stained table cloth.

Eponine tried to listen to the steady stream of discussion, but she found that her eyes were drooping and becoming increasingly heavy. The continuous hum of voices and the warmth of the room slowly lulled Eponine into a fitfull, but unintended, sleep.

* * *

The thing that woke Eponine up, surprisingly, was the sudden silence that befell the room. Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself curled up in a ball under the table, safely surrounded by the tent of a table cloth. All conversation in the room had ceased, and Eponine could only make out one flicker of a light in the darkness of the room.

Slowly and cautiously, Eponine lifted up a small corner of the table cloth to observe her surroundings. The room was devoid of its former spirit and completely empty, save for one man writing at a table in dim candlelight. Eponine would recognize the figure anywhere as Enjolras. She watched him for the longest time, fascinated at the way his arm jerked in his efficient scribbling and the way he ran his hands through his hair every few minutes. Judging by the black of the night outside and the dead silence, Eponine estimated that it must have been at least midnight. What kept her student from leaving and going back to the building they both called home?

Eponine thought of Azelma, who was so terrified of the dark. She hoped that her sister had made it home safely and that her father hadn't taken any of his drunk frustration out on her. Eponine had learned to tolerate her father's occassional beatings, but they always left Azelma a broken mess.

"Monsieur Enjolras, won't you be leaving soon?" Eponine heard the same rude woman that had been behind the bar earlier ask bluntly. Enjolras glanced at his watch and looked surprised at the late hour.

"Ah, yes- My apologies, Madame," Enjolras said as he began to quickly pack up his things.

"Hey, there was a girl asking about you and Monsieur Marius earlier. Said she was Marius' cousin," the lady said. Eponine's stomach dropped and she shrunk back underneath the table. _Damn that busybody!_

"Really?" Eponine heard Enjolras reply, sounding confused. "I am not acquainted with any of Marius's cousins."

"Eh, good for you then. These girls didn't look like the kind you'd be wanting to acquaint with. I tell ya, they were a nasty sort," the plump woman said in her shrill voice. Eponine frowned in anger. _As if she can be making any comments on appearance! The hag certainly is no beauty herself._

"Madame, all women are equal in the eyes of God and the republic," Enjolras replied politely. Eponine smiled and hugged her knees into her body. She felt like cheering for Enjolras. No one had ever stood up for her like that, even though he hadn't intended to. How strange it was that she felt so much affection for a stranger, a man she barely knew at all. Sometimes Eponine found herself forgetting that they'd only spoken once, she felt so much like they'd been acquainted for some time. Of course, she had been stalking him all day...

"You students and your _ideas_," the madame groaned. "Now, out with you. A respectable man like you must have better places to be."

"Yes, thank you," Enjolras said as he headed down the stairs with his things, the woman following close behind. Eponine soon heard the door open and close with Enjolras' leaving. Knowing that she couldn't stay any longer, and still curious to follow the student, Eponine crawled from underneath the table and made her way to the stairs. She took each step slowly, careful not to alert the hag who was washing dishes in the kitchen. Once Eponine was at the door she darted out and fell back into the shadows.

Looking around at her dark surroundings, Eponine spotted the retreating form of Enjolras heading down the street. She knew that the streets were most definitely not safe at this time of night, and with Enjolras' nice clothing he would surely be an easy target for a robber. As she followed quietly behind him she kept her eyes alert for anyone lurking in the shadows who might try something with the student. Eponine felt it was her duty to protect him, the student who promised so much for people of her kind. A man such as him did not deserve any sort of treachery or harm enacted on him.

Enjolras seemed to be taking a different route than the one he and Marius had taken that morning as he took several different turns. Eponine knew the streets of Paris better than the back of her hand, and so it didn't take her long to figure out that he was taking the route home that crossed the bridge. Eponine had taken that path more times than she could count; she loved the bridge more than anything. Her favorite thing to do was just stand on the bridge and look down at the swirling blue water of the river that had always seemed so distant. She had never been swimming, but she always imagined a bath in the misty river would leave her beautiful and pure, as if her sins could be washed away as easily as dirt.

As Enjolras stepped onto the bridge Eponine hid in the shadows by the river bank, as he would surely see her if she went on the bridge at the same time as him. Eponine, however, was surprised to see Enjolras stop halfway down the bridge. He just stared out past the water, looking as if he was deep in thought. _What are you thinking, my student?_ Eponine thought.

Enjolras was so curious that it was hard for her to know what to think of him. He seemed so serious and determined most of the time, but other times he would look distant, as if his thoughts were a thousand miles away from his body.

Eponine had been watching Enjolras for some time when he finally turned away from the river and resumed his stroll home. He had just finished crossing the bridge, prompting her to get up to follow him, when a rough hand suddenly grabbed her arm from behind. She felt her body stiffen in sudden fear but made no sound. Instead she slowly turned around to see one of the thugs from the Patron-Minette, Brujon. Behind him were the other three members of the gang- Montparnasse, Babet, and Claquesous- standing over her imposingly. They reeked of liquor and had no doubt been drinking most of the night, a dangerous habit given their already hostile and violent personalities.

"What do you thugs want?" Eponine hissed quietly. She feared that Enjolras would hear them and come over to investigate, only to get mixed up in the trouble. No, she didn't want that.

"Montparnasse here says you got us a job," Babet spat. "A rich philanthropist you been looking to rob without a proper cut for us." Eponine tried to yank her arm away from Brujon, but his grip was too strong too break.

"I already told you I'd talk to my father about it," Eponine talked directly to Montparnasse.

"Yeah, too late for that," Montparnasse growled. "I already did." The young man, who had seemed so charming just this morning, no doubt had a vicious streak in him.

"Turns out your poppy didn't have no job after all. So the question is- what've you been hiding, little mademoiselle?" Claquesous said, threatening and mocking Eponine at the same time with his biting words.

"What does it matter? Don't you all have anything better to do than rough up a girl like me?" Eponine sneered. She knew she was walking a dangerous road insulting the brutes, but her own pride was hurt that her lie was discovered.

"We're here to offer you a deal," Babet said, drumming his fingers together. "We know you've been following a certain student all day."

"What's it to you!" Eponine snapped. She cursed herself for not taking further precautions when she was following Marius and Enjolras. She had even suspected that Montparnasse had been watching but continued on anyways!

"He's a rich fool, no doubt. Just look at him. Never been hungry a day in his life," Montparnasse commented bitterly.

"You will tell us everything you know about this student, little mademoiselle," Claquesous hissed.

"You say it's a deal... What would I get in return?" Eponine said. Claquesous nodded to Brujon, who grabbed both of Eponine's arms tightly and began to drag her onto the bridge. Eponine struggled and kicked at Brujon, who nearly dropped her before Babet interceded and helped hold the girl down. The pair held Eponine by her arms and waist hovering over the edge of the bridge.

"The information, or your life," Claquesous said. Montparnasse shifted uncomfortably and tightened his jaw but said nothing. Eponine looked Claquesous right in the face, and though she was terrified she spit at him with all her might, hitting him directly in the eye. He barely flinched.

"You won't do it," Eponine said, feigning confidence. "Not to me, not to Thenardier's daughter. I know you don't want to get on his bad side. What would you all do without him to plan your schemes?"

"You really think your father gives a shit?" Brujon laughed. "The old fool would thank us for taking such a disobedient brat off his hands!"

"And who says he'd have to know? You see any witnesses around here? There are plenty of ways to die in Paris, ways that don't involve us lovely gentlemen," Babet said with a cackle.

"You'd kill me over a franc or two?" Eponine said bitterly. "I guess I was thinking that was beneath even you four." That was a lie. She did not think anything was beneath them.

"A franc or two? That man is loaded and you know it," Montparnasse said, sounding bored. The boy was bored while trying to murder her; Eponine was sure he had reached a new low.

"He is a humble student and that is all. Release me now!" Eponine demanded. The bridge that had once been a place of serenity now seemed a place of horror as she was dangling over the edge, the river no longer merciful or kind. Terror fogged up her mind so that she couldn't even devise a lie to get her out of the situation. She truly felt helpless.

"You heard the girl: release her!" Brujon said with a menacing smile. Him and Babet released their grip of Eponine without even giving her time to protest. As she tumbled down she frantically reached out and grabbed the edge of the bridge, clinging to it for her life. Claquesous bent down to look the girl right in the eyes before stomping on her hands with all his might, forcing her to release her grip and fall.

Eponine managed a terrified scream as she plummeted down towards certain death. The wind rushed around her and the fall seemed to last forever. Finally, though, Eponine's body hit the icy water with an uncomfortable smack. She was immediately absorbed by the waves and found herself sinking downward with every panicking movement. Water had worked its way into her nose, her mouth, and her lungs and the world had become a swirling black mist around her. Her arms and limbs seized to function and her body went limp as her mind clouded over.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Eponine saw when she opened her eyes was complete darkness. Feeling nauseous and disoriented she feebly raised one of her hands to brush the hair out of her eyes. She could feel a strange pressure on her chest, and through blurry eyes she saw a figure frantically pushing his hands on her chest. _What are you doing?_ she thought, her mouth unable to form the words.

Eponine was completely caught off guard when the man stooped down and kissed her on the lips. Only it was a strange kiss- as if he was blowing air into her mouth. Her eyes were open as she tried to make out who the man was as he came up for a breath. Just as he placed his lips on her own again he seemed to comprehend the fact that she was awake.

"Ahhh!" the man let out a little scream and quickly backed away from Eponine.

Eponine tried to sit up before a rush of nausea forced her to vomit on the riverbank. She wiped her mouth and pushed her damp hair out of her face before turning to face the strange man, still confused at what happened.

The two looked at each other at exactly the same time and connected in much of the same way they did that morning. A look of both surprise and understanding passed between them, as well as an unspoken awkwardness over the peculiar situation they found themselves in.

"Monsieur?" Eponine questioned. She was gaining clarity but still felt muddled and confused, especially at the actions that had just transpired. She was sure Enjolras had been feeling her chest and kissing her, making her feel even more confused at the ungentlemanly insinuations. He couldn't have been trying to take advantage of her, could he? _No, my student wouldn't do something like that! He couldn't!_ she thought. Her stomach twisted to think such things of a gentleman like Enjolras, but it was hard to ignore the possibility. "Er- What were you doing just now?" Enjolras' face turned bright red and he ran his hands through his wet hair as he avoided Eponine's inquisitve gaze.

"It's called CPR," he quickly explained, obviously flustered and uncomfortable. "It's meant to save people from drowning. You see, I was blowing air through your mouth to inflate your lungs, to get you breathing again. And then I pressed on your chest to start your heart pumping..." Eponine blinked a few times as if she was trying to comprehend his complicated words. Her puzzled expression finally vanished as she seemed to understand what he had been trying to say.

"So you jumped in the water, swam me to shore, and then did your CPR thing... all for me?" she said, her turn to blush now. She didn't know anyone who would have done that for her, especially not a stranger.

"Um, yes, well- I was only doing my duty as a citizen of France," Enjolras said. Eponine suddenly began to shiver violently as the cold set in. Enjolras retrieved his coat and draped it over Eponine's thin shoulders. "Here, this will keep you warm." Eponine took the coat gratefully, unaccustomed to the feel of such fine fabric.

"Thank you Monsieur," Eponine said as she wrapped the coat tightly around herself. She tried to stand but found that her arms and legs wouldn't cooperate, leaving her awkwardly sprawled on the riverbank.

"Er, here, allow me to help you," Enjolras said as he offered his arm to her. Eponine clung to it and used him as support to stand. "We should be going home now to get you in a warm bed." A warm bed? The concept seemed to be a contradiction of itself, something only made up by a priveleged schoolboy.

"I don't want to trouble you, Monsieur. I can get along myself," Eponine said as Enjolras helped her move along.

"It's no trouble at all. We do live in the same building." Eponine looked up at Enjolras with surprise.

"You remember me!" she marveled.

"Yes, of course. Mademoiselle Jondrette," Enjolras said with a straight face. Eponine adjusted her position so that her hand was positioned in the crook of her arm. With her arm through his she could almost pretend that they were a happy couple strolling arm and arm through a garden. Almost.

"I remember you of course: Monsieur Enjolras, the gentleman-like student that lives next door. I wouldn't forget a kind man like you too easily. Because of you and Monsieur Marius my family was able to eat a solid meal," Eponine said.

"Yes, well, it was nothing. But, if you don't mind my asking- How did you fall off that bridge?" Enjolras asked with some hesitation in his voice. Eponine thought about it for the first time and remembered clearly all the events that had transpired. Should she tell Enjolras the truth? She would hate to lie to him, but she also didn't him to know why the gang had pushed her.

"I was pushed, I was," she finally said, the horrible memory of the sudden fall coming back to her. "A few men tried to rob me. When they found I had nothing, they threw me over the edge." It was not so much of a lie after all, even if she did leave out several key details. Like the fact that Eponine had allowed herself to be pushed for Enjolras's sake.

"Men would push an innocent girl off a bridge because she had nothing for them to steal?" Enjolras questioned in horror. His jaw was set in anger and he turned around as if to look for the gang of men.

"It happens... sometimes. With my kind, at least," Eponine replied quietly. The Patron-Minette was infamous for their violence, and so Eponine figured it wasn't the first time they had thrown someone over the bridge like that. When people went missing in the slums people tended not to ask a lot of questions.

_What would have happened if I had died?_ Eponine wondered. Would her parents have cared? They might miss having a competent messenger, but they surely wouldn't miss her as a person. Azelma would have. She'd even cry about it, though crying was no feat at all for the melodramatic girl. Outside of her sister Eponine couldn't even think of another person who'd blink if she never came home.

"Mademoiselle, you are of no kind. All citizens of France are equal, and if this is not true it is the king's own failings," Enjolras asserted these words as if he'd spoken them many times.

"Tell me, Monsieur," Eponine braved, "What gives you so much faith in the poor?" She couldn't understand why a rich man like him would have any sympathy for a robbing bunch of street trash.

"I was born to a wealthy family, and therefore I am priveleged. But I think to myself, what if I hadn't? What if I'd been born in a more unfortunate situation? The poor cannot control their status any more than the rich can. The upper class like to pretend that the poor are such bad folks for stealing and breaking the law when they do not see that they are simply doing what they must to survive."

After a moment's thought, Eponine said, "I like listening to you, Monsieur." She hadn't meant to say it; she'd only been thinking it and it slipped out. Enjolras barely seemed to notice, though, and continued on with his speech.

"I wondered, if I was poor would I do the same thing myself? Would I steal and turn to criminal ways? And the answer came to me- Yes, I would do anything to support those I loved. And seeing that the poor don't have the means to fight back against their situation, I see it as my own duty to protect the rights of the citizens of France, no matter what status they are."

"You really do care, huh?" Eponine said quietly.

"What? Oh- yes. I can get carried away sometimes..." Enjolras said. He shivered in his wet clothes, the first indication he had made that he was cold. Eponine quickly removed the coat and handed it back to him, but he shook his head and set it back in her arms.

"Monsieur-you're cold," she said, trying to give it back again. "Please take it."

"I will not wear a coat while a lady freezes," Enjolras said, taking the coat and draping it back over her shoulders. Eponine blushed and looked at the floor. No one had ever treated her so kindly before, as if she was a true lady.

"The cold doesn't bother me so much, really. I'm quite used to it," Eponine ventured, though she didn't take off the coat again. Just then Eponine felt the top of her wet head. "Oh, my cap! It must have come off in the water!"

"Was it important to you?" Enjolras asked earnestly.

"No- just... it was my father's once. When he was a young man, you see. It always made me think of the better times we had once," Eponine said. She remembered when she was little her father would place the hat on her head and it would slip over her eyes, and then they'd both laugh. It was one of the few things that held any happy memories for her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Enjolras said, his usual stony expression unchanging.

"I wasn't always like this, you know," Eponine said, hoping to impress Enjolras. "My family did have some money once. We had an inn, you see. I was even schooled and learned reading and writing, a proper student like you. It was eight years ago, but I'm sure I remember some of my learnings..." Eponine could only write a small number of phrases, and with very poor penmanship and spelling. Reading was somewhat easier as she found she could often get the gist of a passage based off of a few words she understood.

"Perhaps you can continue your education in the future," Enjolras said.

"I don't see none of that happening," Eponine admitted. "What's the use of an education for a girl like me. It's only wishful thinking, Monsieur."

"An education is the first step to a better life," Enjolras noted.

"You're a proper philosopher, aren't you?" Eponine joked. "I thought you were studying law." Enjolras gave her a suspicious, confused look and Eponine realized her mistake. In the cafe she had overheard him talking about his studies with another student, but he definitely hadn't mentioned it to her.

"I'm sure I didn't tell you that," Enjolras said. Eponine looked down and blushed furiously. What a stupid girl!

"No, you didn't. I just guessed it since you seem very.. very... lawful," Eponine blurted out nervously. From the look on Enjolras' face she could tell he didn't believe her, but he didn't press the topic any further. They walked on in silence for a while, Eponine's awkward slip having stopped their conversation.

"I don't mean to further pry-" Enjolras said after a while, sounding as if it had taken him some time to find the courage to ask, "but why were you out so late tonight anyways?"

"Well why was a gentleman like yourself out so late?" Eponine said, unintentionally coming off as sassy.

"Forgive me. I shouldn't have asked," Enjolras said, continuing to look straight forward without emotion. Eponine felt guilty for her outburst. Monsieur Enjolras had been nothing but kind to her and she repaid him with her ungrateful sass. It was hard for her to let her guard down, though, even with such a gentlemanly sort.

"No, I'm sorry. I just like the night, that's all," Eponine admitted quietly after some time. Enjolras looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Pardon me?"

"I like walking through the city at night," Eponine said again. "Paris- it's so loud and busy during the day. It just seems so peaceful at night, as if the whole city has gone to bed." Enjolras furrowed his brows, one of the first times he'd shown on emotion on his face that whole day.

"It's dangerous for a girl to walk in the streets alone out at night. Just look at what happened to you today," he said.

"I know..." she said. "I never had much to lose, though. I wasn't worried about robberies or nothing."

"You always have your life to lose, and that is the dearest and most valuable thing one can own."

"Then why would you give up your life so quickly for some revolution that's got nothing to do with your kind!" Eponine said, for some reason slightly angry at Enjolras. He had everything she had ever wanted- and yet he'd sacrifice it all for the people of the streets, the lowliest of all of France.

Enjolras gave her another curious stare and Eponine's stomach dropped, realizing she had made another mistake. "I'm know I didn't mention a revolution either." Eponine let out a frustrated breath at her stupidity. She had slipped again and mentioned something she had no business having knowledge of.

"I must've heard it on the street-"

"No. There's something you're not telling me," Enjolras stated. He didn't sound angry or threating, but his voice was so firm and commanding that Eponine felt herself giving into it. She avoided his gaze as her cheeks burned with shame.

"Please do not make me say, Monsieur," Eponine said, her voice shaking. What would Enjolras think of her if he knew that she had been following him all day to give information to her father so that he could steal from the students?

"Mademoiselle?" Eponine sighed and rung her hands, contemplating what to say.

"I was at the Cafe Musain today," she started. She did not intend to tell him the whole truth, but enough so that he would not think of her as dishonest. "I heard you gave speeches there and I was interested in hearing you. That's all."

"So you were there today? I do not believe I saw you," Enjolras said, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"Most people don't see me," Eponine said with a shrug.

"And I suppose you're Marius's mysterious cousin?" Enjolras asked. _He thinks me a liar now_, Eponine thought with dread. _But isn't that what I am anyways?_

"Yeah..." Eponine admitted guiltily. "But I only said so because the lady treated me and my sister like trash! I couldn't think of another way to get her to say where you were..."

"You really did make the madame angry," Enjolras said, smiling for the first time that Eponine had seen. His smile made him look so much younger, as if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders for once.

"Monsieur... you're smiling. I wish you'd do that more often. You have a wonderful smile," Eponine said. Enjolras raised an eyebrow and looked as if he was unsure of what to say next. "Oh, I'm sorry... that was probably forward of me. I'm not good at these things..."

"What things?" Enjolras said, looking moody once again.

"Well, you know... talking to men," Eponine admitted, blushing for what must have been the hundredth time that night. "Most men don't usually want to talk to someone like me." Enjolras' straight mouth seemed to curve down a little. _Look what you've done, you've made him uncomfortable now!_ Eponine cursed herself. _Enjolras doesn't want to hear you whining about how pathetic you are!_

"I must admit, I'm not particularly great with women," Enjolras said after nearly a minute of silence. He coughed and looked away, and Eponine thought she even saw a hint of redness in his cheeks. _Perhaps you did not do so badly after all, Ponine._ Somehow she had cracked his stony exterior.

"Really? And why is that, Monsieur?" Eponine questioned, feigning surprise.

"I just never bothered with the whole thing," Enjolras said, waving one of his hands as if he was discarding the whole idea. Eponine was starting to see a new side to the usually stoic man, a part of him that was actually unsure of himself. She would never have guessed that the seemingly confident leader had any sense of doubt within him. He seemed to come back to his usual self, though, and said, "I only need one mistress, and that is Patria."

"Still, you are so handsome and kind that I should think it would be quite easy for a lady to fall in love with you," Eponine said quietly. Enjolras made no response but blushed and looked down at his feet.

The two walked along further in silence until they reached their building, the Gorbeau House. Enjolras opened the door for her, like a true gentleman, Eponine noted, and the two walked in and up the stairs together.

Once they were right outside their rooms, Eponine said in a quiet whisper,"Thank you, Monsieur, for savin ' me tonight." _And for making me grateful to be alive for the first time in years_, she thought.

"Like I've said, it was only my duty. Try to get out of those wet clothes before you fall ill. I bid you a good night, Mademoiselle," Enjolras said with a nod. Eponine nodded in return and opened her door slowly and quietly with one final glance at Enjolras, who was entering his own room as well.

"I heard about your little screw up today." Eponine jumped at the voice and turned to see her father sitting at the "table", drinking, a stub of a candle still lit and a pile of papers scattered around him. She could see the shape of her mother and sister in their beds.

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Don't play dumb with me. You told Montparnasse I was keeping a job to meself, you stupid hussy. You made me look bad in front of the whole gang!" her father yelled, slurring his words in his drunk stupor.

"You don't need me to make you look bad. You do it yourself all the time," Eponine muttered under her breath. She was nearly killed over him and he still had the nerve to be angry with her!

"You've got something coming to ya, girl, for such a stupid trick!" her father growled. However, he only took another swig of his drink and stared at her with a strange expression. "Hey, where'd you get that jacket there?"

Eponine didn't need to look down to realize she was still wearing Enjolras' jacket. She cursed herself for her carelessness. Her father would get the wrong idea if he knew the student had given her the jacket. She had to think of a lie, and quick. "I nabbed it off a drunk man in the street."

"That's a real nice jacket," Thenardier said with a nasty grin. "Give it here to me, Eponine."

"No!" Eponine said immediately, backing away. "I found it and it's mine!"

"You think you have a choice? I fed you and clothed you your whole life, you ungrateful wretch, and without hardly a thanks at all! I manage the finances in this family, and I say that jacket's mine!" Her father stood up shakily and tried to lunge at her, but in his drunkenness he was slow and clumsy, making it easy for Eponine to dodge out of the way.

"Eponine, just give papa the jacket," a small voice whispered. It was Azelma, who must have woken up from all their father's yelling.

"No!" Eponine yelled, running past her father and out the door faster than she could remember ever running before. Panic rose up inside her as she thought of what might happen if she couldn't return Enjolras's jacket. What if it was his only jacket? With little money to spare he'd surely freeze in the cold weather. Eponine would take a hundred beatings before she'd let that happen.

"You come back here!" she could hear her father yell, though he made no effort to follow her. Not knowing where she was going, Eponine ran out of the Gorbeau house blindly and into the streets. Seeing that her father had not chased after her, she slowed to a walk as she tried to think of what to do next. She couldn't return home to have her father steal the jacket. She couldn't stay out on the streets either, for what if the jacket were to be stolen right off her back?

With nowhere else to turn to, Eponine went back inside the Gorbeau House and curled up outside of Enjolras' door. She knew her father would not be up early, and if she caught Enjolras as he was leaving and gave him the jacket she would have nothing to worry about. Perhaps she could even find a job for her father so he would not be angry with her and would take her back in. _Yes,_ Eponine thought as she closed her eyes, _Maybe everything will work out this one time._


	6. Chapter 6

Eponine did not sleep well that night, and though she was accustomed to a poor night's sleep it was usually from the discomfort of her bed or the chill in her room. This time she was restless over the growing anxiety for the situation she now found herself in.

Perhaps she had been too rash in refusing to give her father Enjolras' coat. Hell, maybe she'd even been too rash in keeping her mouth shut to the Patron-Minette for the student's sake in the first place. After all, what was he to her? Many of the choices she had made thus far could be the deciding factor between life and death for her- and she was willing to blow it all away for a man she barely knew at all.

Something about that man moved Eponine past caring though. He had so much drive and purpose, like he was someone truly important. Like he could even change the world. And compared to such a man, what did Eponine's insignificant little life matter at all- a criminal's daughter who participated in her father's plans with little objection, who wore nothing but rags and ate nothing but burnt bread. And if she didn't return Enjolras' jacket, that would be as bad as stealing it. It would only confirm the kind of person Eponine was, and besides... what would the student think if he thought her a thief? She supposed she could tolerate his pity, but she would never be able to stand it if he knew she was a criminal.

Eponine felt she had been asleep for barely a minute when she was startled awake at the abrupt opening of a door. Quickly opening her eyes, she saw that it was already light out. She lifted her head to see Monsieurs Marius and Enjolras standing in the doorway, looking down at her with curious expressions of confusion and surprise. Eponine quickly stood up and did a quick and clumsy curtsy, trying to retain some form of dignity despite having just slept on the floor.

"Good morning, Monsieurs," Eponine said politely, keeping her head down.

"Do I know you? Your face seems vaguely familiar to me, and yet I can't place it," Marius spoke.

"Yes, we meet just two nights ago, Monsieur," Eponine replied shyly.

"Mademoiselle Eponine Jondrette," Enjolras clarified. Eponine blushed at Enjolras's direct statement of her name. It didn't go unnoticed that he remembered her full name... It was as if she wasn't invisible for once. "She paid us a visit with a letter from her father."

"Ah- Yes, now I remember!" Marius said with a self-satisfied grin. "What brings you here this morning, Mademoiselle? I hope everything is alright with you."

"Yes, thank you. I'm so sorry about meeting you like this," Eponine said with an embarrassed flush of her cheeks, "But I forgot to give Monsieur Enjolras back the jacket he let me borrow." Eponine looked at Enjolras and handed him the jacket, reminding her of the nights ago when she had handed him the letter. It seemed their circumstances were very different this time, yet all too similar.

"Thank you, but... Did you stay on our doorstep all night?" Enjolras asked as he draped his jacket over his arm. Eponine noted that he had a different jacket on today and started to feel silly. _What was I thinking_, she thought. _Of course he'd have many jackets to spare. You forget he's not like you._

"Yes, Monsieur. Um- it's a long story, but... I felt it was important to give back to you as soon as I could," Eponine said. "And after last night I knew I owed it to you at least."

"What happened last night that you two are referring to?" Marius wondered, his boyish face lighting up with curiousity.

"Oh, it was nothing.." Enjolras said, obviously trying to avoid the topic. Eponine, however, answered in place of him.

"Monsieur Enjolras saved my life, he did. I was walking along the bridge when my foot slipped and I fell over the railing. It was a real piece of luck that Monsieur Enjolras was there to save me," Eponine said, giving a grateful look to Enjolras and braving a smile. She lied about how she had fallen in to spare herself Marius's pity.

"Well, Enjolras, you're a hero! Jumping into water and saving damsels in distress!" Marius cheered, clapping his friend on the back. Enjolras' mouth twisted into a forced half smile as he looked uncomfortable.

"I would have done the same for any citizen of France. I'm glad to see that you're well, Mademoiselle, but try to rest if you can. No doubt sleeping out here tonight wasn't good for you either," Enjolras said.

"It seems Monsieur is worried about me," Eponine said as she ducked her head with a shy smile. "But you needn't be. I'm alright, I swear. It takes more than a little swim to stop me."

"Yes, I don't doubt that. Thank you again for returning the jacket. I'm sorry for the trouble you had to go through for it," Enjolras said, his face as unchanging as ever.

"It was no trouble at all for me, Monsieur. When I saw I still had it on last night I thought to myself, 'Monsieur Enjolras is likely cold and missing his jacket', and so I knew I had to make sure to return it right away. I'm an honest girl you see," Eponine said, hoping to prove herself to him.

"Yes, of course. We must be leaving now though, I'm afraid to say. Er- Good day, Mademoiselle." With a sad glint in his eyes and a nod of Enjolras' head, as well as a wave and smile from Marius, the two took off down the hallway and headed down the stairs. More pity. It had a way of making Eponine feel infinitely worthless.

Eponine walked over to the head of the stairs to watch the stairs. Just as they were stepping out the door she could hear Marius chastising Enjolras for being rude. Rude? She wondered how her student could ever be considered rude when he had already been so kind to her. She supposed he had been rather brusque, but she felt it was part of why she liked him. He was charming and handsome but he also had a way of speaking directly and honestly so that his words never seemed deceitful.

Eponine stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, when she impulsively skipped down the stairs and out the door, scanning the streets for the students. Spotting them easily, she began to follow them from a distance. _What am I doing, stalking him again?_ Eponine thought. But the truth was, she couldn't stay away. And the exciting and mysterious aura of the students was a welome distraction from her current problems.

Though the streets were already fairly crowded, Eponine didn't follow the students too closely for fear of discovery, not just by the students but by the Patron-Minette. Who knew what the gang would do if they found her alive? She was sure they wouldn't try anything again anytime soon, as they had had been very drunk last night when they did, but she still couldn't be too careful.

As she was walking behind the students and sticking close to the shadows, Eponine saw a small figure dart by Enjolras and, quick and nimble like an experienced pickpocket, snatch out of his pocket and dash away. By the time Enjolras and Marius noticed the boy was far down the street.

"That boy just robbed you!" Marius said zealously, obviously surprised. Pickpocketing was far from unheard in the area, but Eponine supposed Marius and Enjolras were still unaccustomed to it.

"That was my last bit of change," Enjolras said with frustration, reaching into his pocket to confirm its emptiness, though he made no move to follow the pickpocket. The boy had all but disappeared... at least, to the untrained eye he had. Eponine slipped away from the crowded street and into a narrow alleyway. She ran quickly, her bare feet padding along the cold stone, expertly aware of the streets and where she was going. Eponine was skilled at navigation, a skill her father used to his advantage many times in asking her to find and scout places for him.

She made several fast turns before running straight in to the little boy in question. She quickly grabbed on to the back of his patched coat and held him up for her to see.

"Gavroche," she stated with a frown. "I knew it was you." Gavroche broke from Eponine's grip and shoved her playfully but made no move to run away.

"I suppose you want in on this bit I just took? I snatched this off some righteous bourgeois, you know," Gavroche said with a cheeky smile. He held out a few coins in his hand, a sizable amount for a street boy like him. To him it was the security of a few good meals.

"You best be giving those coins to me! They don't belong to you," Eponine ordered the young boy. He closed up his fist and quickly hid it away from her.

"What makes you think you got a right to it either?" Gavroche said defensively.

"Listen," Eponine said gently. "I know the man you took those from, and he's not going through a good time either. Please give me the money, Gavroche, and I swear I'll be returning it straight to him."

"What, you expect me to believe somethin' like that?" Gavorche laughed. "I always thought you were a better liar, 'Ponine!"

"It's the truth! Look, I'll even take you to him," Eponine offered, almost to the point of begging. She'd do anything to have the money returned to Enjolras, to make him see what a good person she was, and to make him happy. Perhaps she would even catch one of his elusive smiles.

"What kind of trick are you getting at? The sister I knew never gave a damn about who she stole from," Gavroche replied, still not believing Eponine.

"Neither did you and neither did any of us, Gavroche, but right now I'm serious! Y'now, I think I've even changed a little bit, like I've had some sort of epiphany or something."

"You don't know the meaning of the word!" Gavroche teased with a raucous grin.

Eponine scowled and said, "Maybe not, but I do know it's a good thing! Maybe I been thinking I could do some good from now on, y'know, do stuff to actually help people. And it starts with this." Eponine latched onto Gavroche's wrist, much in the way she often did with Azelma, and dragged him along behind her as she headed back to the main street, knowing exactly where she'd be able to find Monsieur Enjolras.

"Hey! I won't be giving it back!" Gavroche protested as Eponine forced him along.

"Oh yes you will, you brat. Besides, I think you'll like him. He could teach you a thing or two about being a gentleman."

"You're making me meet the guy I just stole from! Are you crazy! I'm not meeting anyone!" Gavroche yelled as he tried to jerk away from his sister's grip. Eponine however, held on tight, her fingers locked around his small wrist.

"Well, it seems like I'm dragging you behind me anways, so looks like you have no choice in the matter," Eponine said with a smug smirk. As independent as her brother liked to think himself, it was fun to remind him who was in charge. There weren't many people Eponine could order around, and so when she could she took full advantage of it. It wasn't really that she was a bossy or controlling person, she just liked to have some sense of power or importance.

"What's papa got to say about you 'turning a new leaf'?" Gavroche asked. Him and their father had never gotten along well, hence why Gavroche chose not to live with the rest of them. He was plenty capable of living on his own in the streets anyway. Sometimes Eponine felt that he was better off than she was.

"We're not really on speaking terms right now, especially not since his gang tried to kill me last night," Eponine said bitterly. "They pushed me off the bridge, you know."

"Wow, really? What happened?" Gavoche's face lit up in curiousity.

"Don't sound so excited- I could have died!" Eponine said harshly, narrowing her eyes at her younger brother. With a softer tone she added, "I almost did, actually. But a nice gentleman, the very man you so thoughtlessly stole from just now, jumped into the water to save me. Can you imagine that, Gavroche? A real proper rich boy, saving a girl like me..." An involuntary smile came to her face.

"He saved you hisself? For nothing in return?" Gavroche said, trying to wrap his head around the scenario. It was a curious idea that a stranger should save a street girl for no pay at all.

"Of course he did, didn't I tell you he was a gentleman! Now don't you feel ashamed of yourself, you little thief, stealing from your own sister's hero? I expect you to apologize right to his face and give_ all_ of his money straight back when we go meet him."

"I guess if he saved you and all... It don't seem like I got much of a choice now anyways," Gavroche muttered. He was still bitter that he had to give up the money, but Eponine knew she'd be able to coax it out of him.

"There's a good boy. I knew you weren't no villain, Gavroche," Eponine said, giving her brother's curly head a rough pat. After a moment's thought she added, "He's leading a revolution, you know. The student that rescued me, that is. He says it's for people like us to have a better life, somethin' about equality and liberty and all. What'dya say to that?"

"A revolution? With guns and everythin'?" Gavroche said with breathless excitement.

"I suppose so. He's only talking about it now, but I'm sure something will happen soon," Eponine commented.

"Say, you think I could fight in something like that? You think they'd give me a gun?" Gavroche asked with a grin.

"What, an 11 year old little thief like you? They'd be fools to do that!" Eponine scolded him. "Why do you boys always think of violence? Since when was guns and killing people good things that little boys like you dreamed about?"

"But how else could we fix anything up without guns?" Gavroche said innocently.

"I'm sure it could be done without blowing each other's brains out," Eponine muttered. She'd seen the products of street brawls and other skirmishes before, and they were memories she preferred to keep tucked back in the recesses of her mind. The still, lifeless corpses surrounded by puddles of blood, bodies twisted and mangled in inhumane ways... it wasn't something one could easily forget. She sincerely hoped that Monsieur Enjolras, and all of the other students for that matter, wouldn't be getting involved in anything dangerous like that. For a moment Eponine saw Enjolras' body sprawled out awkardly and covered in blood, his lifeless blue eyes still open in death. She quickly shook her head to dispell the unpleasant thought. She knew that she would rather have drowned last night than see Enjolras dead, even in just her thoughts.

Eponine had worked her way through all of the alleyways that she had passed when she had been pursuin Gavroche and arrived back on the main street. Enjolras and Marius were far gone, of course, but Eponine had a guess of where they'd be. And so she led Gavroche, who had given up on protesting and followed her with some curiousity, to the Cafe Musain.

This time as she walked through the door she avoided the fat madame working behind the counter and quickly crept upstairs. As it was still far before noon, the room was far less lively than it had been the day before. There were a few students scattered about, idly chatting, drinking, or studying, but no sign of Marius or Enjolras. Perhaps the students are at university. They are students after all, Eponine thought, angry at herself for making silly assumptions. She turned to lead Gavroche away when she noticed her brother had left her side and was wandering over to the group of students.

"Gavroche!" Eponine hissed and ducked in the staircase to avoid being seen. Gavroche continued on and approached the students, who looked slightly taken aback at the sight a small ragged boy in their meeting place.

"Hello there, little boy," one of the students ventured apprehensively.

"Good evenin', gentlemen," Gavroche said without a hint of shyness. "I hear you all are starting a revolution, and I just want to say I'm in! I don't expect you'll be giving me a gun right away, but I swear I'll fight braver than any other man you seen before!" There was silence for a moment before the students burst out laughing. Gavroche _was_ ambitious, Eponine had to admit.

"You sure are spirited, aren't you? And what's your name, little master?" one of the students said with a jolly smile.

"Name's Gavroche, at your service," Gavroche said with a quick little bow. "About the fighting..."

Another of the students spoke this time, "Now, now, let's not be hasty. We haven't planned any fighting yet."

"What? There's no revolution going on? No guns, no nothin'?" Gavroche sounded remarkably disappointed.

"No, not yet, at least. You're quite welcome to attend a few of our meetings, though. We meet here nearly every night to discuss our plans for action."

"Yeah, I could try to stop by some time. I'm a busy man y'know, but I can prob'ly manage to fit it in to my schedule." The men all laughed again, though Gavroche's face remained quite serious.

"You have yourself a deal, Gavroche. How would you like to stay? We can brief you on the basics right now."

Gavroche turned to look in the direction of the stairwell where Eponine was hiding. "Yeah, that'll do," Gavroche said in a business-like tone. "But you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

Gavroche left the men chuckling and retreated to the stairwell. He fished in to his pocket and pulled out the coins he had stolen from Enjolras earlier. He dropped them into Eponine's palm and smiled, and without a word he ran back upstairs to join the other students. Eponine curled her fingers tightly around the coins and held them to her heart for a moment. _Monsieur Enjolras has touched these very coins_, she thought, _and so this is almost as if I am holding his hand._ With a small smile and the coins wrapped in her grasp she left the cafe and back out in to the street.

The streets were busy and filled with carriages and people moving past, but something caught Eponine's eye on the other side of the street. Between the passing crowd she saw flickers of an old man and a young girl with a small crowd around them. Her curiousity piqued, Eponine snaked her way through the masses to get a closer look. From her new vantage point she could see that the well-dressed pair were handing out bread to a line of desperate-looking poor people. _Wealthy philanthropists._

Eponine thought of the trouble she was in with her father, knowing that lining up a new job for him would put her back in his good graces. After all, she had no idea where she would sleep tonight if she couldn't please him. All she had to do was follow the man and girl to obtain their address, and it would be as simple as that. She knew that she had told herself that she'd be honest from now on, but there was nothing illegal about telling her father their address. At least, that's what she tried to tell her protesting conscience. She'd do exactly what she'd always done, what needed to be done to survive.

At that moment the young woman turned her head in Eponine's direction and Eponine froze. The soft waves of blond hair, the smooth curve of her cheek and straight edge of her nose, those wide-set blue eyes. It didn't matter that it had been seven years since she'd last seen the girl- Eponine would recognize her anywhere. _Cosette._

Cosette: the girl who had lived under her family's care when they had owned their inn in Montfermeil. It was a time that Eponine had not easily forgotten given the fact that it was the happiest she'd been her whole life, though that wasn't saying much. Back then Cosette had been the misfortunate one, the abandoned daughter of a whore, who wore rags and slaved away on the Thenardier's behalf while Eponine and her sister wore fine clothing and slept in warm beds. And despite the fact that she had been far superior to Cosette, Eponine could still remember the bitter hatred she had had for the girl. No matter how many tasks she was given, no matter how terrible Madame Thenardier was to her, and no matter how much Eponine taunted her, little Cosette still maintained some sickly sweet facade. It had frustrated Eponine beyond belief when the girl would repeat that her mother would be coming for her any day. How could a girl with nothing stay so optimistic, while Eponine had everything and still wasn't satisfied?

And now- Now the little lark had fledged into a beautiful young woman adorned in fine clothes, and Eponine? She was left the scum of the street. All of the deep contempt that Eponine had once had for her resurfaced. She watched Cosette through narrowed eyes and made up her mind instantly: she'd find Cosette's address and tell her father as soon as she could. Eponine wanted Cosette to experience at least a fraction of the suffering and anguish that she herself gone through in the recent years.

Eponine rushed across the street once it was relatively clear and stood by as she waited for Cosette and her "father"- Eponine remembered the day the large man had taken Cosette away from the Thenardiers, something her parents had still never forgiven- to retreat home. As she stood by watching, Eponine couldn't help but notice that Cosette was even lovelier up close. Her skin was so pale it almost appeared translucent, and she filled out her dress perfectly with her healthy figure. It only fueled Eponine's jealousy to see Cosette looking so well while she herself was reduced to a gangly figure in ragged clothing.

But as she saw Cosette and her father handing out the bread Eponine experienced a curious twinge of guilt. Though Cosette was of obviously high class, she spent her time distributing bread to help out the needy. Such an unselfish act of kindness, and yet Eponine still couldn't help but dislike the girl.

At around noon Cosette and the old man finally left with their basket of bread empty, surely heading home to enjoy a comfortable lunch. Eponine followed them from afar in the way she was so accustomed to, for she didn't need to try hard to be sneaky.

The pair eventually arrived at a large house surrounded by a gate. Through the bars of the fence Eponine could see the painted yellow walls of the house and a beautiful garden just hidden out of reach on the other side. With another quick scan of the house and its location, Eponine scampered in the direction of her owm home, taking a shortcut through the back alleys she knew so well.

Compared to the wreck that her life had been just last night, things were beginning to look up. She would get back on her father's good side while serving justice to her long-time enemy. Eponine unfurled her cramped fingers for the first time since departing the cafe and looked down at her dirty palm. She grinned at the sight of the shiny coins and closed her fingers tightly once more. If anyone had seen her walking through the alley, they'd think her a fool for the bright smile on her face, but all Eponine could think about was how Enjolras's face would look when he was given back his stolen coins. She dared to hope that he might even crack a smile, a smile that she could pretend was meant for her alone.

* * *

**Sorry about the lack of E/E interaction, but the future chapters will definitely be containing more as this story starts to pick up. In the meantime, any reviews are appreciated.. thanks~ (:**


	7. Chapter 7

Eponine was surprised to find six pairs of eyes staring at her as she entered her family's room, and judging by their eyes they were just as surprised to see her as well. Her father and the Patron-Minette were all gathered, with Azelma lurking in the corner, looking as if they were in the middle of a discussion before being interrupted.

"Where've you been? Got any money?" Thenardier said without even blinking an eye at his daughter's return. Eponine assumed that he had already forgotten about their argument last night, likely considering he was completely wasted. The Patron-Minette, however, all looked disturbed and bewildered as if they'd seen a ghost. _I suppose I may as well be a ghost after surviving that fall_, Eponine thought. Still, the gang remained completely silent, not wanting Thenardier to know of the events that had transpired the night before.

"I got us a job," Eponine stated. Thenardier stood up and clapped Eponine on the back with a hearty chuckle.

"Hey, that's ma girl! I knew you'd come through for me, didn't I tell you all? Eh?" Thenardier said, addressing the Patron-Minette. They still dared not to make a sound and Eponine smirked triumphantly. It was the first time she had ever heard the brutes at a loss for words and their silence was certainly welcome.

"There's some rich philanthropist who gives out bread to the poor with his daughter. I got their address and everything, papa," Eponine said.

"Good girl, 'Ponine. Good girl," her father said, still grinning with satisfaction. Eponine was not particularly proud of her actions, but she had to admit it pleased her to make her father proud. As much as she despised the old man sometimes, his rare displays of affection towards her almost allowed Eponine to convince herself that her father still loved her. He sat down at their makeshift table and began drafting a letter.

"This will be our easiest job yet," he said as he began to scrawl out the letter. "The old fool already gives out bread for free! All I got to do is tell him about my my sick wife and my starving children and he'll be handin' over the lot to us!"

"You think he'll fall for your dirty tricks so easily? You got to _convince him_," Claquesous hissed. It was the first time any of the gang had spoken, though they still cast frequent suspicious glances in Eponine's direction.

"Damnit, I'm building it up as much as I can! Leave me to my business!" Thenardier protested. The man was stubborn and didn't like being told what to do, a trait Eponine had inherited to a certain extent.

"We got to think bigger than a shitty little letter! If we're to really get this guy good, I say we take him here ourselves!"

"Yes, go on..."

"You write him the letter requesting he come by here to offer help to your family. He gets here, sees what a damn shithole this place is, and the fool will pay up!"

"I think you all need to think even bigger," Brujon said with a sinister smile. "I say we tie up the man here and shake him down for all the money he's got!"

"Yes, yes! It's been ages since we done anything big like that!" Thenardier cheered. "I just got to lure him here with my letter and once he's inside... the bank is ours!" Eponine's stomach dropped and she took a few steps back. She could tolerate her father taking some of the man's surplus money, but now violence and extortion was involved. She gripped her fingers tighter around the coins that were still in her hand and thought of the promise she had made to herself, that she'd become truly honest and stop with all of the criminal business. She could believe in her mind that what she was doing wasn't illegal and was therefore technically morally sound, but her conscience was harder to convince.

"You'll deliver this tomorrow morning, 'Ponine, and by tomorrow night... We'll all be rich as hell!" Thenardier chuckled, raising a bottle of wine before taking a few huge swallows. Eponine sat down on her mattress and stared straight ahead like a zombie.

"You alright? You sure do look dead," Azelma said from beside her. Eponine forced herself to snap out of whatever daze she had stumbled in to and tucked away the problems for later. Looking over at Azelma, she realized she hadn't seen her sister since the day before when she had left to follow Marius.

Curiousity got the better of Eponine and she asked, "What happened when you followed Marius yesterday?" Azelma shrugged and looked bored.

"Hardly nothing at all, I tell you. He went to some garden and sat on a bench for ages and then just went straight home he did. I'm sure that other guy was far more interesting."

"Don't worry, you didn't miss much," Eponine lied, deciding to keep the incident at the bridge a secret. She suddenly felt an odd tickle in her throat, leading to a violent session of coughing. She shivered and felt very cold all of a sudden.

"You okay? I've no idea where you slept last night after papa yelled at you, but I'm sure it wasn't anywhere good judging by that cough," Azelma said.

"I think I'll rest. It's been a long day," Eponine replied as she laid down on the mattress and tried in vain to make herself comfortable. Azelma got up for a moment before returning with a small hunk of bread, placing it in Eponine's hands.

"The Patron-Minette brought a loaf over! Nice of them, eh?" Azelma said. In a quieter mischevious tone she added, "Maybe Montparnasse is trying to impress us." Eponine took the bread gratefully and ate it quickly. She figured it was more likely that the gang had brought the bread over out of guilt for "killing" Thenardier's daughter, though she wasn't quite sure if they were capable of remorse. Either way, the bread helped soothe her empty stomach and she drifted in to the best sleep she'd had for weeks.

* * *

It was already light out when Eponine finally awoke from her deep slumber. Despite the fact that she must've slept for more than 10 hours, she felt groggy and had an irrepressible chill. _Just a cold, I'm sure_, she told herself.

Eponine sat up slowly and took in her surroundings through blurred vision. Her family was nowhere to be seen in the small room, but the letter intended for the rich philanthropist was sitting on the table. She stared it for awhile, mulling over her circumstances at the moment. She thought of what her father said the night before, that they could all become rich. If that was really true, Eponine could finally live the lifestyle that she had dreamed of for so long, and she'd be the one wearing pretty dresses while Cosette would be kicked to the streets.

_Is that really what I want, to make a family suffer for their kindness?_ Eponine thought with unease spreading through her stomach. She was torn between her obligation to follow her father's orders, which also meant ensured survival for her, and her protesting conscience. And even if she did as her father told her, she had a creeping feeling there would be severe consequences for everyone.

_But what else is there to do? I must do what Papa has asked of me. Why should I give a damn about that spoiled Cosette_? Eponine told herself. She shut out her feelings and prepared to leave, donning trousers, her father's old trenchcat, and an abandoned old top hat in order to disguise her appearance. She tucked her hair in to the top hat and pulled the collar of the coat up to conceal her face. Eponine quickly poured Enjolras' coins in to her coat pocket and grabbed the envelope as she left the building. _You're only delivering a letter_, she thought as she coughed in to her sleeve. _You've done it a hundred times, and this is no different._

* * *

Eponine arrived at the familiar yellow house with little trouble. She knew the streets of Paris by heart and found her feet carried her automatically towards her destination despite the fact that it was the last place she wanted to be. She stood by the tall iron gate and scanned the house, trying to evaluate a way to deliver the letter. Considering he was generous in giving out bread it seemed out to Eponine that the old man took such drastic safety measures in keeping a gate around the house. Perhaps it was to keep out burglars, but there was something about the tall pointed bars of the gate that made Eponine feel uneasy, almost as if it was guarding the house from hell itself.

As she was looking at the house through the bars of the gate she saw motion in the garden. Her first impulse was to move away quickly, but she kept her task in mind and stayed at the bars. Soon enough a figure appeared, a man Eponine didn't recognize that she took to be the gardener. He was busy watering the bountiful flowers and didn't notice Eponine.

"Monsieur!" she cried out. No reaction. She cried out louder, "Hey, Monsieur! You there!" He turned around to see a boy in a top hat and trench coat that masked his features. The gardener assumed a suspicious look on his face at the sight of the dirty and shady-looking Eponine, and for good reason, too.

"I have a letter for the man of the household," Eponine spoke, deepening her voice to mask it's femininity. She held the letter out through the bars of the gate while keeping her face hidden from the gardener, who approached her cautiously.

"I'll make sure he reads it," the man said bluntly as he looked Eponine over and scowled. "Although I can't imagine what business you'd have with Monsieur Fauchelevent. Now off with you, shoo!" Eponine hurried off, desperate to leave the place behind and escape from the guilt that kept pressing at her without relief. The task was done and Eponine's part in the crime was over. Whatever happened from then on had little to do with her, and so she hoped to stay as far away from it as possible.

As Eponine was leaving she pulled the top hat a little lower over her head. The wide open brim of the hat made her feel exposed, and its awkard tallness was quite gawdy. She missed the feel of her old hat, the worn brown cap that had suited her so well for the past few years.

Eponine walked back to the Gorbeau House with a slower pace than the efficient trot she had used to carry herself to Fauchelevent's home. Her feet dragged along the street and she couldn't suppress the coughs that continued to plague her body. Perhaps she just needed more rest, and then all would be better again.

Eponine examined the shops as she strolled through the street, the exciting window displays catching her wandering eyes. One store in particular held the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen before, cut in the finest fashion. It was made with a rich maroon fabric coupled with cream-colored lacy trim and a plunging neckline and sinched waist. Eponine stared at the dress longingly, examining every expert stitch that had gone in to creating the exquisite gown. If her family really did become rich, perhaps she'd be able to wear fine dresses like the one so proudly displayed in the window. Eponine envisioned herself in the dress, transformed in to someone beautiful and desirable with just one piece of fabric. Her hair would be manageable for once and would be pinned up in the way she saw all of the pretty women wear their's, her skin smooth and flawless and without a trace of dirt. She'd be light and graceful on her feet and everyone would comment on what a beautfiul and charming young woman she was.

Eponine finally turned away from the window display and shook the thoughts out of her head, for they were simply impossible desires. The dress was better suited for someone like Cosette.

Though Eponine's fantasies over the dress were out-of-reach, the smell of bread from the bakery next door was just as enticing. When was the last time Eponine had eaten a meal that had left her satisfied instead of yearning for more? As she stalled in front of the bakery Enjolras's coins seemed to weigh down her pocket. She could so easily spend just a fraction of the money on a decent meal for herself, and would the student really miss it?

Just as she decidedly tore herself away from the front of the bakery, someone bumped in to her snaked a hand in to her pocket. Eponine turned quickly to see a man heading in the opposite direction at a brisk but guarded pace. _I know a dirty thief when I see one!_ she thought as she took off after the tall man. Hearing her footsteps behind him but without turning back, the man began to sprint down the street. He was fast, that was for sure, but Eponine was driven by her desperate need to get the coins back. After all she had gone through she was not going to lose that money!

She dodged through the crowd nimbly and pounded away at the floor with her bare feet, soaring after the fleeing pickpocket. She reached out and grabbed the man just as he ducked in to the alley next to the Gorbeau House. He turned around to face her with a angry expression that softened when he saw her face.

"Eponine, it's you," Montparnasse said with alarm, removing her hand from his arm.

"What's the big idea, eh? What makes you think you can steal from me now? As if trying to kill me wasn't enough!" Eponine yelled. She was hardly angry at Montparnasse for stealing- it was his nature after all- it just simply infuriated and scared her at the same time that she came so close to losing the precious coins she had been saving for Enjolras.

"I didn't know it was you, I swear! What're you going around with a coat and hat like that anyways? Just asking for trouble in a get-up like that," Montparnasse said defensively, though he sounded almost frightened. Eponine eased up and sighed heavily.

"I was delivering Papa's letter, you dimwit, not that my life is any of your business anyways," Eponine said, the edge not yet gone from her voice.

"'Ponine, I'm sorry, truly... For everything," Montparnasse said, his voice sounding almost sincere for once.

"Everything, you say? Like how you and those brutes tried to kill me?"

"I didn't think they'd actually do it, believe me! I thought they was just messing around, y'know how they get sometimes. I'm sure they didn't really mean to do it either. We were drunk, it was an accident," Montparnasse explained.

"It was an accident that you all grabbed me and threw me off a bridge?" Eponine spat. She still felt betrayed by the Patron-Minette. They may not have been close or anything, but she had always thought they had some sort of understanding with each other.

"But how did you survive anyways? We thought you were a goner for sure. When I saw you this morning I even thought I mighta been seein' some sort of ghost." Montparnasse chuckled as if he had said something funny.

"Like I said earlier, it's my own business. Now give me my coins and I'll make sure my father won't find out about your little 'accident', okay?" Eponine held out her hand expectantly with a hard expression on her face. Montparnasse held out the coins and looked at them with a devilish grin.

"How'd you get so much? Been whorin' around?"

"What! How dare you!" Eponine reached for the coins but Montparnasse grabbed her wrist, firmly but gently.

"You really want these coins? You'll have to get them back in the same way you earned them," Montparnasse said flirtaciously, pulling her close to him. She struggled to escape his grip as he moved his hands to her back and pressed her even closer.

"Damn you, stop it!" she shrieked as she shoved him away with all her might. She broke free from his grip and shoved him again, hard, in the chest for good measure. He looked slightly embarrassed and wounded at first, but that expression was immediately replaced with one of anger.

"What, you think you're too good for me? A stupid whore like you? I'm probably the best offer you'll ever get," Montparnasse sneered. Eponine backed away instinctively and shot him a warning look.

"I ain't never been a whore, and I sure as hell ain't never gonna be a whore to the likes of you!" Eponine said, her voice shaking with both fear and anger.

"Ah, so you do think you're better than me," Montparnasse said bitterly, his hurt pride not all the way disguised by his mocking tone. "Just because you've been around that uppity schoolboy all of a sudden you think you're worth a shit. I thought you'dve learned by now that you and me are nothing to them but the dirt beneath their feet. You're nothing but a stupid whore."

"And you're nothing but a cowardly sissy! I know my place, Montparnasse, and maybe it's time you learned your's: beneath them all where you belong. All your attempts at fancy clothes and sophistication and all that ain't fooling nobody around here. We all know you for what you really are, a no-good, thieving _murderer_." Eponine stared at him coldly and watched his face. Unlike Enjolras his emotions were not carefully guarded and flashed across his face like the text of a book.

"If that's the way you really feel, don't expect to ever see this money again," Montparnasse growled as he shoved the coins in to his pocket. With one last angry, hurt look in Eponine's direction he turned to leave.

"I'll tell my father," she said. He turned around and looked at her with a warning look on his face. "I'll tell him everything. How you and the Patron-Minette threw me over the bridge. Best of all I'll tell everyone else how you're planning on betraying them tonight."

"That's not true!"

"Oh, but of course it is! At least, to the others it will seem true. I'll tell them how I saw you talking to that rich man today, how I overheard you warning him about the ambush in exchange for your own cut of money. My father would believe me and you know it!" Eponine said. Montparnasse seemed to be considering Eponine's words carefully as he wrinkled his brow together and set his jaw. He finally threw the coins down on the floor and scowled even further, leading Eponine to smile smugly as she gathered up the coins.

"You think you've won as easy as that, but I'm not through with you, far from it actually. You may have your precious daddy to protect you today, but mark my words: nothing ever comes without a price, especially not for whores like you. You'll get what's coming to you, you cocky little bitch!" Montparnasse turned angrily and stomped off, obviously unaccustomed to not getting his way. His comments had little effect on her, for Eponine knew Montparnasse had frequent mood swings all the time. He may be swearing revenge on her today, but she was sure tomorrow he'd be his usal self, attempting to be charming as he tried to woo her and any other lady he set his eyes on. Eponine was simply elated to have the precious coins back, and she would make sure not to let them out of her grip again unil she saw-

Enjolras. Right as Eponine had stepped out of the alleyway to go home she came face to face with Enjolras.

"Monsieur!" Eponine said, failing to hide the joy out of her voice as she hurried over to him. "Now I haven't seen you since yesterday morning! I wonder how you've been." Quickly realizing she was still wearing the top hat, she quickly removed it from her head and tossed it to the floor. _How embarrassing, being caught looking even worse than usual by the one man who matters_, Eponine thought, humiliation creeping in to her cheeks. She brushed it off, however, in the happiness she felt in seeing him.

"I've been well, thank you," he said. Eponine cocked her head and smiled shyly at him before remembering the money she had been waiting to give to him.

"Oh! I have something for you, Monsieur!" She held her hand out open to him, offering up the coins in her hand. He looked at the coins with confusion, not understanding what Eponine meant in offering him the money. "They're yours."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Enjolras said, his brow furrowed.

"I must confess I saw someone pickpocket them off you yesterday when I was out in the streets, and I thought to myself how you told me you don't have too much money to spare at the moment. So I started feeling bad and thinking about how you might go hungry or something, so I followed the boy and got the money back for you. I'm sorry I couldn't return it until now... I hope it didn't inconvenience you too much." Eponine had been looking in embarrassment for her whole speech and finally braved a look at Enjolras' face. He wasn't looking at her either, but seemed to be gazing off in to space with a somewhat perplexed look. "Monsieur?" He seemed to snap out of his trance and turned to look at her for a second before avoiding her gaze again.

"Forgive me," he said. "It's quite remarkable that you'd go to such lengths to return these coins to me, and I thank you for that." You have no idea what lengths, Eponine thought, but she smiled.

"I owe it to the man who saved my life," she said.

"I thank you, but- I request that you must keep this money for your own use as a reward for your honesty. I can make do without it," Enjolras said, refusing the money that Eponine still held in her outstretched hand.

"No- No, Monsieur, really! You must take your money," Eponine held the money out again but Enjolras shook his head, his hands remaining limp at his sides. "Please, Monsieur, it would mean a lot to me. You must have it." Eponine tentatively reached out and grabbed one of Enjolras's hands from his side. His hand was surprisingly warm, his touch rough in a pleasant way that Eponine found appealing. She carefully opened his fingers with her own and dropped the coins in them before closing his hand and wrapping her own hands around his closed fist as if to secure the money's place. She let his hand drop back to his side, and all the while Enjolras watched her with a curious expression on his face. She wasn't sure if she had overstepped any unspoken boundaries in touching him, but from the way he was looking at her she guessed that she might've. She blushed and braved a small smile.

There was silence between them for a while before Enjolras said, "Thank you, Mademoiselle. I'll be sure that I put these coins to good use so as not to waste the trouble you went through to return them to me." He put the coins in his pocket before drawing something out of his coat. "I confess I have something of your's as well." My hat! The worn cap was a beautiful sight to behold and Eponine couldn't contain the smile that lit up her face.

"But- how?" she said, almost at a loss for words. Enjolras handed her the cap and she immediately placed it on top of her head, enjoying its familiar worn feel and the comfort it offered her.

"I took the bridge this afternoon and happened to see it on the riverbank. I remembered you said you had lost your hat, so I picked it up for you. It was sheer luck that I stumbled upon it, I assure you," Enjolras said somewhat quietly. "Now I'm glad that I have something to give to you in thanks for your generous gift to me."

"It seems we can never get equal with each other, can we, Monsieur? You spare a few francs for my family, you save me from the river, you return my hat. So what can I do for you in return?" Eponine said with a light laugh.

"You needn't do anything, Mademoiselle. I have done none of it in hopes of a returned favor, but only in hopes of doing good for the people," he said. _For the good of the people_, Eponine thought. She had been hoping that he had helped her because he had seen something in her. She had been letting her sentimental thoughts run rampant again though, forgetting her place.

"Monsieur is too kind to me," she said shyly.

"I'm sure that's not true," he said. After a short silence between the two he said, "I must be getting to my room now. Good day, Mademoiselle." Enjolras turned to enter the Gorbeau House and Eponine followed him in.

"Pardon me, but you're going to be in your room all night?" Eponine asked carefully.

"I suppose so," Enjolras said, sounding a little confused at Eponine's forward question.

"I just... I was asking because I didn't want to wake you. I know how thin the walls are between our rooms," Eponine said. In reality she asked because of the ambush that would be taking place in a matter of hours. She feared to think what could happen if her student got involved.

"Thank you for your concern," Enjolras said politely, though still sounding unsure of Eponine's reasoning for asking. He reached his room and opened the door before saying, "Good day."

Eponine stood in the hall and stifled a cough, still digesting the conversation and not quite wanting to go back to her room. Her heart was still beating out of her chest from her encounter with the student and she found herself wondering for the thousandth time what he might think of her. Would it ever be possible for him to see her as anything but a street girl? He talked to her so formally and always spoke as if he had some sort of brick wall blocking out his true emotions from being expressed. She wished he would speak to her openly, such as a pair of old friends were. But she knew that once again it was only wishful thinking, and she headed back to her room with her heart heavier than it should have been.

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**Thanks for reading/reviews! I love your feedback! Next update soon**


	8. Chapter 8

The men of the Patron-Minette were all gathered in the Thenardier's room in restless excitement for Fauchelevant's impending arrival. Thenardier was especially anxious, taking to pacing the floor and shouting orders at the rest of the men.

Their plan was shaky at best, though Eponine didn't dare say so to her father. The gang would all wait in the room for the wealthy man's arrival and would ambush him at first sight. Once he was tied up they would beat him mercilessly until he agreed to give them a satisfactory sum of money. Eponine didn't doubt that they planned to kill the old man afterwards, even if he did give in to their demands. After all, they couldn't have him telling the police.

And through it all, Eponine and Azelma would take watch outside for the law, just as they always did.

"Eponine! Azelma!" their father shouted through his rambling instructions. "Why are you not looking out yet! He'll be here any minute now!" Without a word Eponine and Azelma left the building and took to their usual lookout spot, a corner that offered complete visuals around the Gorbeau House. The streets were clearing and mellowing out with the dwindling light of the sun, though there was still a number of people mulling about. It was Paris, after all, and it could be said that the city never slept.

"What happened the other night? Where did you get that jacket, and why wouldn't you give it to papa?" Eponine was surprised by Azelma's sudden question that had emerged out of the impatient silence.

The two hadn't gotten the chance to speak for some time, and certainly not without the presence of eavesdropping ears. Eponine still wasn't sure how to explain any of the events to Azelma without revealing the truth.

"I took it off a drunk man, like I told papa," Eponine lied automatically, avoiding her sister's inquisitive gaze.

"Then where is it now, huh? Why weren't you wearing it when you came back?"

"Well I slept on the streets, naturally. When I woke up it was gone. You can't have anything nice without being taken, eh," Eponine said lightly, hoping Azelma would drop the subject.

"You were stupid not to give it to papa, Ponine, you know that? And then you went and let it just get stolen like that, right off your back! Don't know why anyone thinks you're so smart at all..." Azelma uttered bitterly, crossing her arms.

"Perhaps I just wanted something of my own for once without papa taking it," Eponine replied curtly. It was even mostly true; whenever she acquired something for herself her father would take it at his first chance. It had often irritated her, but then her father would always make her feel guilty with his stories of how much of a burden she was on the family and how she owed him for keeping her.

"You were still stupid! What kind of idiot sleeps in the street like that by choice? You deserved to have that jacket robbed off you if you act like that!" Azelma sounded angry now, which in turn made Eponine's own blood boil.

"Shut up!" It came out harsher than Eponine intended to but effectively silenced Azelma. The girl scowled and lifted her chin defiantly before her face relaxed and her shoulders drooped.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away. I was worried about you, that's all," Azelma admitted.

"I'm not like you, Azelma. I can take care of myself."

"I know that!" Azelma said. "You're the smartest person I know, I reckon. I just get worried about you sometimes, you know that? You act like you're invincible but you're not."

"Don't worry 'bout me. I can take care of myself," Eponine repeated firmly, continuing to scan the streets.

"Forgive me for caring," Azelma muttered angrily, setling a tense silence between the two. Eponine ignored her and tried to focus on the task at hand, though she was beginning to feel rather woozy and even more ill than she had earlier.

She also couldn't suppress the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. She'd done this sort of task hundreds of time before without such a reaction. Yet somehow this time was different, and deep down she knew she couldn't let that man be robbed. It wasn't just because the man was kind to people like her, but also because she had made a private vow to stop all of her criminal activity. She could pretend however much she wanted to that she hadn't done anything technically wrong, but she knew that her careless actions could lead to the death of a man tonight. And after her own unworthy life had been saved, how could she take away the life of another who was far more deserving of life than her?

She knew what had to be done, even if it meant betraying her family and putting her own well-being at risk. The only thing left to consider was how to prevent the robbery in the safest way possible.

Eponine considered warning the man before he entered the building, but she feared becoming too directly involved by speaking to him face to face. And if he knew that a robbery had been planned, what would stop him from going to the police? As much trouble as her often horrible family caused her, she relied on them and even felt a familial attachement. She would prefer that none of them go to jail, though she wouldn't mind if the Patron-Minette was locked up.

Eponine suddenly spotted the man in question striding in the direction of the Gorbeau House; Fauchelevant was easily recognizable for his height and strong build. He had just opened the door to the building and stepped inside. _Think quick Eponine, think quick._ She looked around frantically and spotted a police man casually strolling a distance away. Without further thought Eponine picked up a hefty rock and chucked it at her own family's window in the Gorbeau House. The window shattered and the glass tumbled to the street, catching the policeman's attention and leading him to run over to the scene. Eponine pressed herself to the wall and watched the scene unfold, ignoring Azelma's bewildered look.

"What the hell!" Thenardier yelled as he stuck his head out the window. Looking down he suddenly noticed the policeman looking up at him and stuck his head back through the now glass-less window. In a quieter hiss he spoke to the gang, "The police are watching! Get out now! Out with you!" Faster than the gang was typically capable of moving, they climbed out the window, the one that was still intact, on the other side of the room, knowing well that they could easily escape out the back way. Monsieur and Madame Thenardier stood their ground in the room, knowing they hadn't technically done anything wrong yet and had no need to escape.

Just as the men had all climbed out the window a knock sounded in the Thenardier's room.

"Don't answer it, it's gotta be that man," Madame Thenardier said in a hushed voice.

"But my dear, that's precisely why I will answer it," he said with a wicked smirk. "Our first plan may have failed, but it shan't all be a waste yet."

Thenardier quickly turned over two of their chairs and broke a leg off of one of them before striding to the door and opening it to face Fauchelevant.

"Oh, kind Monsieur! You've come at last to offer relief from our miserables lives!" Thenardier said dramatically, ushering the large man inside. "I am so embarrassed, really, to have you in our home when it is so dreadful as this."

"It is no problem at all, sir. Your letter certainly touched me and I would be glad to help in any way I can."

"Oh, bless your name!" Thenardier said with fake sobs. "My daughters are starving, my poor wife is sick-" Thenardier looked at his wife, who in turn issued a dramatic reenactment of coughing. "And look at this, we'll freeze from the cold now that our window's broke! With no way of paying the rent I fear my family will be on the streets very soon, Monsieur!" Thenardier's father sobbed shamelessly in his attempts to scam Fauchelevant out of a few coins.

"I pray you calm yourself, Monsieur, for I have brought with me something to ease your unfortunate family's suffering." Fauchelevant offered up the basket he carried and took off the cloth that covered it, revealing clothes, two loaves of high-quality bread, and a hunk of cheese.

"What?" Thenardier muttered, his face fallen in disapointment.

"I insist you take it. If you require further help I do hope you'll contact me again. I wish your family all of the luck in these difficult times," the man said curtly but politely, handing the basket over to Thenardier. "I must go now. Farewell, Monsieur and Madame Jondrette." As Fauchelevant took his leave Thenardier's face turned from surpised disapointment to disgusted contempt.

"This is it? This is all I get?" he complained. "Where's the money! That selfish man!" Madame Thenardier snatched the basket away and examined its contents.

"It's better than nothing," she said as she sniffed at the cheese. It was a luxury that the family could almost never afford.

"I should've been a rich man tonight," he muttered angrily. Louder, he repeated, "I should've been a rich man!"

Back outside Eponine watched Fauchelevant leave the Gorbeau House and breathed a sigh of relief at his safe return. She was about to leave when Azelma snatched her wrist and looked at her intently.

"What was that about?" she said with a frown and narrowed eyes.

"There was a cop. I had to warn papa," Eponine stated simply before coughing a few times. Whatever illness she had was becoming increasingly worse.

"That cop had no interest until you threw that rock!"

"Or so you think. I'm a much better lookout than you are... Don't you think I can tell when a dirty cop is sniffing around?" Eponine said. She entered the Gorbeau House with a silent Azelma in tow and came in to the room.

"I'm sorry it didn't go well, papa. I hope you're not angry," Azelma said quietly. Thenardier paid no notice to her and had resumed his habit of pacing the floor.

"Damn that cop!" he cursed angrily. "Everything has been ruined! _Everything_!"

Eponine felt very weary and tired at that point, and she was suddenly wracked with violent coughs. Her father paid no notice in his pacing, but Eponine began to feel very faint. With her last bit of energy she stumbled over to her mattress and collapsed.

"'Ponine? Eponine? What's gotten in to you?" Azelma asked her sister as she shook her. Eponine curled in to a tight ball and coughed again, feeling as if she might cough out her own lungs.

"I dunno," Eponine gasped. "Not feeling myself..." She leaned over the edge of the mattress and emptied the few contents of her stomach, mostly bile, on to the floor before rolling back on the bed. The illness, which had slowly been eating at her the past couple of days, had manifested so quickly, and yet it seemed as if would consume her whole being. While their parents were still oblivious, Azelma was growing frantically concerned.

"Papa! Papa! Something's wrong with Eponine!"

Thenardier turned to see Eponine doubled over on her side, her eyes tightly shut with a pained expression on her face. _This surely must be death_, Eponine managed to think repeatedly through her muddled brain.

"What, she sick or something?" he said, pausing for a moment to look at Eponine with uninterested scrutiny. Eponine's face relaxed and her head lulled to the side.

"Eponine!" Azelma exclaimed, flying to her sister's side. She shook her vigorously only to see Eponine remain unresponive. Azelma pressed her ear to her chest and sighed in relief that she was able to make out a heartbeat. "She's alive!"

"'Course she is. She's a tough girl, unlike you," Madame Thenardier said without bothering to look up. She was still invested in the contents of Fauchelevant's basket.

"Now shut up, all of you! I need to think!" Thenardier yelled, pacing once more before he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Ah, hell, what is it now!" he yelled with exasperation.

Thenardier flung the door open to see Enjolras standing in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want? And where's that other student of yours?" Thenardier said, not bothering to be polite knowing that the students wouldn't donate a large sum of money as he had initially hoped.

"My friend Marius is out right now. I just came over because I thought I heard glass shattering. I don't mean to pry, but... is everything alright?" Enjolras said with slight hesitation. The corners of Thenardier's mouth lifted up almost imperceptibly for a moment before he assumed an exageratededly sad face.

"Please come in, kind Monsieur," he said as he opened the door wider to allow Enjolras to enter. "Our room is very humble, I'm afraid, and it's just gotten even worse for us now that our window is broken and my poor daughter is sick!" Enjolras's eyes scanned the room for a moment before settling on Eponine's limp form. His cheeks flushed and he looked troubled at the sight.

"Good god, is she alright? She looks quite unwell!" he said. Thenardier unleashed his fake sobbing act and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"My beloved Eponine is dying, I'm sure, and we have no way of paying a hospital bill! Whatever shall we do?" Thenardier sobbed, pausing for a moment to sneak a look at Enjolras. Enjolras look at Eponine for a few moments before averting his eyes and looking at Thenardier with his usual composed expression.

"You needn't be troubled over your daughter's welfare, Monsieur Jondrette," Enjolras assured the old man, who kept up his sobbing act while hiding a smug smile, expecting the student to donate a generous amount to the family. "One of my friends is a medical student. He can treat her for no charge." Thenardier faltered a moment. _Why doesn't anyone ever just give me money instead of this stupid charity!_ he thought with anger.

"I couldn't bother you with that! Perhaps some money instead would allow me to admit her in to a hospital?" Thenadier said, no longer putting on an act of sobbing. He had no intentions, of course, of actually putting Eponine in a hospital.

"I assure you that my friend is quite a qualified doctor. We must hurry, though, before her illness gets even worse," Enjolras insisted.

Seeing that the student would not budge, Thenardier finally frowned and muttered, "Go ahead then." Enjolras looked at Eponine and then looked back at Thenardier. "What're you waiting for? Take her, she's yours."

"I beg your pardon, but I was sort of expecting you would carry Mademoiselle Jondrette to my friend's residence," Enjolras said, running his hand through his hand through his hair.

"Oh I would, believe me, but I have a bad back. And a bad foot. And my knees buckle," Thenardier lied. "C'mon, you're a strong young man. Carry her yourself!"

"I'm afraid it would be indecent of me to touch a young lady in such a way," Enjolras said, adjusting his cravat nervously.

"But she's not a lady at all, so you needn't be worried about that," Thenardier said with a chuckle.

"You students and your damn formalities," Madame Thenardier muttered with annoyance. "Just take her already or get out of our hair!"

"Yes, I'm sorry," Enjolras said quietly. He walked over to the mattress where Eponine was lying and hesitated for a moment before carefully reaching his hands out. He put one arm beneath her legs and one under her arms before lifting her up and taking her in his arms. She felt remarkably light to him, but that wasn't all he felt. He blushed fiercely to touch a lady in such an intimate way. He could feel the bony curve of her spine, the weight of her spindly legs. Her head was leaned against his chest and her face was relaxed, making her look much younger than he had ever considered her. How old could she be? 15?

"You gonna stand there looking at her or are you gonna leave?" Madame Thenardier complained, prompting another round of blushing for Enjolras.

"I'm sorry. Excuse me," he said as he left the room with Eponine in his arms. He felt an unexplainable attachment to the small street girl in his arms. Enjolras found it remarkable that she had all the misfortune of the wretched, and yet she still managed to be so unselfish. She epitomized his belief that all people were essentially good, regardless of socail status. _See, this is what you are fighting for._ Enjolras reminded himself. To see harm fall upon her would be like seeing his own revolution die in front of him.

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**Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. Next update hopefully before next friday. Please keep reviewing! Every review makes me really happy and motivates me to get chapters out quicker (: Thanks~**


	9. Chapter 9

Unlike Eponine, Enjolras certainly did not enjoy walking alone in the dark. He was neither ignorant nor stupid and fully realized that being a well-dressed young man made him an obvious target to the thieves that often roamed in the shadows at night. The fact that he was carrying an unconscious Eponine would also make it nearly impossible to fight back against any assailant. He hurried along with this in mind, his boots making a clackity sound on the cobblestone street that seemed to echo in the silence.

Joly's apartment was but a short distance from the Gorbeau House and in close proximity to the Cafe Musain. Though it wasn't anything fancy, it was far nicer than Enjolras's own building. For one thing, the building seemed to be structurally sound, already a far cry from the Gorbeau House. It was also much cleaner and well-kept with generally decent boarders.

Enjolras stood in front of Joly's room for a moment before gently knocking. Silence. He shifted the weight of Eponine in his arms- not that the girl weighed anything at all- and waited. He thought he could make out shuffling on the other side of the door, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Joly, are you there?" Enjolras said with a harder knock. The shuffling grew loud enough that Enjolras knew there was no mistake. His friend was in the room.

"Yes? Who is it?" came the spirited voice Enjolras knew to be Joly's.

"It's Enjolras."

"Enjolras? What are you here for so late?" Joly said, his surprise detectable through the door.

"I do wish you'd open the door so we could discuss it," Enjolras said curtly, losing his patience. Eponine had turned a sickly pale shade and had beads of sweat on her forehead. Neither symptoms were very promising.

"Just another moment!" said Joly. Enjolras sighed but said nothing, bracing himself for what was to come. Knowing Joly, he'd have a million questions, questions that Enjolras himself wasn't sure he'd be able to answer.

"Here I am!" Joly said with a welcoming smile that dropped when he caught sight of Eponine in Enjolras's arms. "Good heavens, what's this? What are you doing with that gamine?"

"I"ll explain it to you later, but for now she needs your care," Enjolras said.

"Yes, of course," Joly nodded vigorously. "I must warn you, though... I have a guest at the moment." He opened the door for Enjolras to come inside. It didn't take long for him to notice a pale redheaded woman sitting in a chair in the corner. She smiled and nodded her head in greeting to Enjolras. "Enjolras, this is Musichetta, of course. I'm sure you two have met before." They had- she worked at the Cafe Musain, and it was no secret that she was Joly's mistress.

"Good evening, Monsieur," she said, maintaining a friendly smile that Enjolras did not return. He noted her messily pinned-back hair, the wrinkled state of her dress, and the crumpled sheets on the bed. Putting all of the clues together, Enjolras suddenly felt deeply embarrassed.

"I'm sorry to... intrude like this," he said, feeling uncomfortable in the awkward situation. Even just that fact that Joly had a woman in his room so late at night unaccompanied was shameful, but it was clear she was not simply visiting. Still, he had more important things to worry about. Many of his friends had mistresses, and so he knew he shouldn't dwell on any of it. Even if he himself had no understanding of that sort of thing. "May I place the lady on the bed?"

"Yes, go right ahead! You must tell me what ails her," Joly insisted as he worked to smooth out the bedsheets for Eponine. Enjolras gently placed Eponine on to the bed and stepped back, turning his eyes away from her. His gaze had already lingered on her far too long today. He knew it wasn't proper of him to look at a woman so openly, even if she was unconscious and it was out of concern for her health.

"I'm afraid I know very little, only that she fell unconscious no earlier than an hour ago. Her family only vaguely mentioned that she had fallen ill," Enjolras said, trying to recall the brief conversation he had had with the Jondrettes earlier. It had been his first time formally meeting the family, excluding Eponine, and he found that their circumstances were very unfortunate, indeed. It was difficult not to pity them.

"I'll inspect her to see what I can find," Joly said. Enjolras kept his face turned away as Joly checked all her vital signs. "Her breath is steady and her pulse seems normal. You really have no insight as to how this illness came about?"

"Well-"

"Yes?"

"She fell in to the river two nights ago. I was afraid she might catch something," Enjolras admitted.

"She fell in to the river?" Musichetta remarked, speaking for the first time. "But how did the poor girl survive?"

"I was actually there when it happened. I jumped in to help her," Enjolras said. He found he didn't like retelling the story that painted him as such a hero. It made him squirm to think that doing something decently human would be regarded as such a spectacle.

"And yet you're not ill?" Joly said. "Or are you? If you are, I must treat you immediately! We can't have you getting sick now." Joly would often get much too worked up about illnesses and injuries, but Enjolras silence his worries with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"No, no, I'm fine. Mademoiselle Jondrette did not have the privelege of dry clothes or a warm bed that night. I suspect that she has been facing severe malnutrition as well. Perhaps all of these factors have led to her health decline," said Enjolras.

"And so is the life of the poor. I see it all the time. It is sad, yes, but what can you do when so many suffer," Joly lamented.

"But- there must be something you can do, right? It can't be too late," Enjolras said, accidently letting a desperate tone take over his usually carefully guarded one. He had seen the mass suffering of the people of the streets, but Eponine's death would be like a personal failure for Enjolras. She was hardly more than a child.

"She has a chance, but I'm afraid I can't make any promises. Food, warmth, and rest are the only things I can prescribe. I'm sorry there's not more I could do," Joly said softly. As a medical student he had not quite hardened himself against the suffering of his patients, and so he could almost feel each loss and each pain that they endured. "Are you attached to this girl, Enjolras?"

"She is my neighbor," he answered simply. "Her family is very poor and could not afford a doctor. I made a promise to them that I'd see to it that she would be treated."

"Ah," Joly said lightly. "I should have already known Auguste Enjolras would never feel any attachment to a woman at all." Musichetta giggled at this, though Enjolras's serious face remained unchanged.

"I dare say she is a pretty little thing," Musichetta said, observing Eponine's still face with a keen smile. "I do hope she gets better."

"Perhaps you should take her home now, Enjolras, back to her family. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and food. She musn't leave her bed at all," Joly suggested. Enjolras considered this for a moment.

"If Mademoiselle Jondrette is to survive I don't believe that would be the best option for her. I've seen her apartment and it can hardly provide any of those things necessary for healing," Enjolras admitted, thinking of the shabby condition of the room and the broken window. "It would be best for me to admit her in to the hospital. I'm sure I have the money to spare..."

"That needn't be necessary, Monsieur Enjolras," Musichetta said with a smile. "I'd gladly take this Jondrette girl in. I could take care of her far better than any hospital could. Lord knows one can walk in to that place with one illness and walk out with another."

"Musichetta, my love, how generous of you," Joly said, taking her hands. He turned to Enjolras. "Do you agree to this proposition?"

"It is very generous, but I fear it would leave Mademoiselle Musichetta out of a room of her own. Do you have another place to sleep, Mademoiselle?" Enjolras said. Musichetta exchanged a look with Joly that did not go unnoticed by Enjolras.

"Musichetta can stay here, of course. Just until the girl is well, that is," Joly said with a nervous smile. Enjolras didn't approve of such arrangments, not just because of the impropriety of it but also because Joly would become increasingly distracted from their cause. He already was a man to flit his attentions, but with a woman involved Enjolras knew his friend would be even farther away at their meetings. Nevertheless, Enjolras had promised the Jondrettes that Eponine would be well taken care of, and this seemed to be her best chance at a full recovery.

"How much must I pay for Mademoiselle Jondrette's living arrangments?" Enjolras said finally.

"Nonsense! You shan't pay a cent, Monsieur."

"I can't allow you to spend your own money on food for her," Enjolras replied.

"I live in a cafe! There's always plenty of food to go around. It won't be a problem at all," Musichetta reassured him. "Now, we should be taking her to my place before it gets too late. I don't want to be making Mother mad."

"Pardon me- but your mother? The owner of the Cafe Musain is your mother?" Enjolras said tentatively. He recalled the plump hag who was so often rude to the students. Although she tolerated their activities, she made it clear that she herself didn't want any part in it.

"Yes, that's her. I know she can be downright nasty sometimes, but she means well. I'm sure she'll be glad to have your Jondrette girl as a guest," Musichetta said. Enjolras nearly scoffed in the backwardness of the statement, for he knew the woman to be a judgemental witch who did not approve of any of the so-called "lowly". She had certainly not approved of Eponine when she first met her those few days ago.

"Then it's settled! Let's be off!" Joly said, clapping his hands together decisively. "Do you want some assistance in carrying the girl?"

"No, that's not necessary," Enjolras said as he bent down to pick up Eponine. He carefully edged his hands underneath her limp body and lifted her up again. This time her head lulled backward instead of falling against his chest. As Enjolras followed Joly and Musichetta out the door he quickly repostioned her head while they weren't looking so that it was tucked comfortably against his shoulder. _It is only for the lady's comfort, of course_, Enjolras thought, as if to defend any sort of protests his mind made at this seemingly affectionate gesture.

What would become of Eponine Jondrette, his peculiar neighbor whose life had become unexplainably intertwined with his own? There was no guarantee that she would even last the night; in fact, it seemed like a stretch to even hope for it. Enjolras felt entirely hopeless in the situation, a feeling he was unaccustomed to and found he didn't like. The emacipated girl in his arms could be dead before morning and there was nothing he could do about it.

Enjolras silenced his troubling thoughts as they walked the short distance to the Musain. He decided he must think of his task at hand and steeled himself for whatever was to come.

The Musain was quiet and empty in the present late hour that they arrived. Even the meddlesome barmaid, Musichetta's mother, seemed to be missing from the typically lively place. Musichetta wordlessly led Enjolras and Joly into one of the back rooms, no doubt her own bedroom. The room was small and simple but comfortable, with a bed that held countless quilts and sheets as well as a small bedside table. With an affirmative nod from Musichetta Enjolras placed Eponine on to the bed gently. Enjolras was troubled to see that she still appeared remarkably pale.

"Shouldn't we cover her with the quilts? The poor thing must be freezing in those clothes," Musichetta commented, noting Eponine's simple blouse and skirt, an ensemble that offered little modesty or warmth to the unconscious girl.

"I suppose we should. I don't want her to overheat and get a fever, but we can't have her freezing either," Joly said. He stepped forward to pull the blankets up around Eponine and tucked them underneath her chin. The thin gamine looked tiny underneath the stack of blankets, but she was probably warmer than she'd ever been in her life. If she could feel, that is. Enjolras was not sure of her own level of unconscious awareness at the moment, as she had certainly not made any indication that she was cognizant of anything.

"I'll go fetch some things for the girl," Musichetta stated as she left the room, leaving Enjolras and Joly alone.

"So this gamine is your neighbor?" Joly said again after a few moments, though Enjolras could catch in his curious undertone that he was really wondering what his connection was with Eponine.

"Yes, my neighbor," Enjolras said firmly, not wanting to give Joly the wrong idea. Enjolras was notoriously indifferent towards women, and so, despite the unfortunate circumstances, Joly still couldn't resist the temptation to question his friend about the lady. With his handsome face and noble bearing, countless women, beautiful women, openly flirted with him only to meet his stony indifference. _Surely Enjolras can't see something in this pathetic gamine when he could have nearly any woman in Paris!_ Joly thought, though he didn't dare voice this opinion aloud.

"How ironic it is that this sick gamine is the only woman you've ever shown any interest in," Joly said in a lightly teasing tone.

"I have an interest in all citizens of France," Enjolras replied simply. "This woman is no better or worse than any other."

"Enjolras, always the idealist," Joly said with a small smile. At this Musichetta returned in to the room with a tray that she set down on the bedside table. The tray contained a bowl of soup, a stack of cloth, and a washing bowl full of water.

"I can take care of her from here, if you two wish to leave now," Musichetta said as she absentmindedly wiped her hands on her dress.

"You'll be here the whole night? Without a bed?" Joly said, obviously concerned for his lover's own health. "I thought we had agreed you'd stay with me?"

"But it's only for tonight! This Jondrette girl is obviously important to Monsieur Enjolras. I can't let the one woman he finds agreeable stay here on her own," Musichetta said as she took a hold of Joly's hand. The corner of Enjolras' mouth twitched in the suggestion of a frown, but he said nothing.

"But where will you sleep?"

"I have a few spare blankets. The floor is plenty suited to my needs," Musichetta said with a comforting smile aimed at Joly. "I promise I'll take care of her well. You both can return in the morning to check on her condition."

"We shall return tomorrow then," Joly confirmed. "Don't overexert yourself, though, my love. Promise me you'll get some rest."

"I promise," she agreed with an impatient smile. "Now out with you two!"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Enjolras said with a nod. With a final look at Eponine's resting form, he fled the room with Joly. Though his face appeared indifferent as usual, his mind was far more troubled than his appearance suggested. With all of his scattered thoughts, the one that repeated over and over through his mind was that Eponine's illness was in a way his own fault. He knew very well that it was unhealthy for her to continue on after her fall in the river, especially since she had slept on his doorstep to simply return his jacket. How selfish and materialistic it seemed of him- to accept a meaningless jacket from a suffering gamine, not to mention the money he had accepted. He was sure that his blindness had directly led to Eponine's declined health. Of all the regrets he had of his life thus far, he found this haunted him more than anything.

He parted from Joly and returned to his room in an unfeeling trance. Marius was asleep in his bed, completely unaware of the events that had transpired that night. Without another thought, Enjolras removed his jacket and shoes and settled in to his bed, letting the warm blankets envelop him and relieve him of his worries, at least until the next morning.

* * *

Eponine woke with the strangest dream fresh in her memory. Her mind had been consumed by strange colors and bursts of light accompanied by a constant stabbing pain. And somewhere with all of the suffering there had come relief, a spread of warmth that overwhelmed her confusing dreams and set her mind at peace. Opening her eyes, she had no idea where she was, only that her confusing dreams were over.

_Am I alive, or is this heaven? But I know I don't belong in heaven- perhaps this truly is real,_ Eponine thought, her brain still muddled as she realized she was tucked underneath a thick stack of blankets. She tried to sit up with difficulty and could only manage to prop herself up slightly against the pillows. She still felt feverish and faint, and yet she had somehow survived.

Through the small window in the room Eponine could see the sun just beginning to rise. It was still a mystery to Eponine as to where she was- the small bedroom she found herself in was entirely unfamiliar to her. She noted two bowls on the bedside table, one full of water and one empty, as if someone had been caring for her. _Maybe I'm in one of those hospital things?_ She found it hard to believe that her parents would go through the trouble of putting her in one, though.

But what was this place and who had brought her here? She considered running but was sure she wouldn't be able to make it. As it was she was having trouble even keeping her eyes open and continuing to breathe.

A gentle knock sounded from the door and Eponine automatically shrunk back agains the pillows once more. She couldn't answer it, she knew, but found herself curious as to who the visitor was. Perhaps it was her caregiver. Another knock and Eponine called out, "Come in!"

The door swung open and Eponine saw a tall figure fill the doorway. She squinted her eyes, unsure if they were deceiving her. Was it Monsieur Enjolras there? Perhaps she truly was dreaming.

"You're alive," Enjolras said, and there was no mistaking it really was him. "I mean- I'm glad to see you're well." Eponine stared at him without an answer. She saw Enjolras' eyes wander to the floor and for the first time noticed the figure of a woman sleeping on the floor in a bundle of blankets. Perhaps the woman had been her caretaker?

"Monsieur," Eponine finally got out, her speech followed by a series of coughing. She wasn't sure why Enjolras was there- in fact, she wasn't sure of anything at the moment- but she knew that his very presence gave her comfort. She let out a small smile when she had finally stifled her cough. "You're here with me."

"Yes, I've come to check on your health," Enjolras explained, furrowing his brow.

"I'm happy to see you," Eponine confessed quietly. She stared at Enjolras' unmoving face for a few moments before adding, "Why am I here?"

"You fell ill last night and your father requested that I find treatment for you. You're in the Cafe Musain. Mademoiselle Musichetta was treating to you last night," Enjolras explained, indicating Musichetta's sleeeping form on the floor.

"My father? Papa wanted me treated?" Eponine said, failing to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yes," Enjolras confirmed. "He seemed quite upset when you fell ill."

"'Tis not like him." Eponine said bitterly, though a satisfied smile betrayed her words. _Maybe Papa really does care? At least a little, maybe._

"And Monsieur Enjolras brought me here?" Eponine said, daring a look at Enjolras. His face was unchanged, though she found he seemed to be avoiding her gaze.

"I fear it was my fault you fell ill, Mademoiselle," he admitted.

"It's your fault I'm alive," she corrected shyly. "I don't deserve your kindness."

"You deserve to live, Mademoiselle. Do not deny this of yourself," he said simply.

"You do remember how you saved me? That's twice now, Monsieur."

"Think nothing of it," Enjolras said, finally turning to meet her stare with his soft blue eyes. How funny it was that with such a hard and intense expression he wore on his face most of the time, his eyes were so gentle and warm. Eponine could almost pretend that they held a secret affection for her, that they were the eyes of a lover looking at a beautiful woman. She was certain her own dark eyes reflected this, though she was just as certain he himself did not detect it. "You must focus on getting well now."

"Yes... Yes, I will," she laughed quietly and finally gave into her tired eyelids, closing them at last. "If it makes you happy, Monsieur, I will."

Enjolras wasn't sure what to make of Eponine's words. He brushed them off as enthusiastic gratitude instead of any sort of emotional attachment she might have for him. Not sure if she was still awake or not, Enjolras quietly spoke, "I will inform your family of your present condition. Take care, Mademoiselle."

Just as he was leaving, Enjolras heard Eponine's quiet call, "You'll come back, I hope?"

"Yes, of course. Tonight," he confirmed before leaving the room. Eponine was left alone to smile and drift off in to a fitful sleep.

* * *

**I know this story is progressing slowly, but bear with me! I don't want to rush in to anything, and from the way I have it planned this story is going to be pretty long. It's going to go through the barricade, too.**

**So thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in a review**


	10. Chapter 10

Enjolras found himself the last one in the Cafe again that night. His pen was paused over his paper as he lost his focus in his thoughts. He had just finished a rather inconsequential meeting with the ABCs. Although he himself was fully ready to sacrifice himself for the cause, many of the other members weren't as passionate as he was. He had trouble finding the spirit of revolution in any of them and his speeches had been less than inspiring as of late.

He knew that many of his fickle friends were already getting bored with their talk of liberty and equality. They'd rather drink all day and chase women all night. Enjolras knew he'd have to do something, and do it soon, to get their distracted minds back on the cause.

But underneath all of his outward decisive leadership, Enjolras was far from brash. All of his decisions were carefully calculated and thought over, and with this mindset he was sure that it was too soon to be calling for arms. The assorted group of inexperienced students stood no chance against the trained forces of France. They'd need the people's support, that was for sure, to have any hope of a successful revolution.

It was the people's fight, after all, and so be it that the outraged people should take up arms against their oppressors. Enjolras would need to take his speeches out of the Cafe Musain, to spread them to the people of the streets. The revolution could no longer be a whispered-about event conspired by schoolboys, but a mass movement that flowed through the very blood of Paris.

Enjolras's pen scrawled at the same speed as his racing thoughts as he developed a draft of the actions the Friends of the ABC would have to take to meet their end goal of a freed France. He'd go over the plan the next day and take action as soon as possible. With every squandered minute people were falling ill and the poor were starving.

Enjolras envisioned a France where such problems wouldn't exist. If the people were given their basic rights of life, liberty, and property, the mass suffering would surely stop altogether. _Where there is evil in the world a force of goodness must rise up to stop it. I must be the catalyst, for the sake of France,_ Enjolras thought as he set down his pen, his scribbled notes completed.

With a heavy sigh Enjolras gathered up his things and headed downstairs, where he was met with complete silence. Even the nosy barmaid was nowhere to be seen. Right as Enjolras put his hand on the doorknob he remembered the promise he had made to Eponine earlier.

A part of Enjolras wished to simply leave without seeing the girl again. The idea of visiting a girl he was hardly acquainted with made him feel uneasy. He had never been particularly social and wasn't one for casual conversation, as he found it a petty waste of time.

Enjolras finally relinquished his reluctance and let go of the doorknob. He wasn't sure how it had happened this way, but he knew that the girl was his responsibility. And she had seemed to look forward to his visit earlier, though Enjolras wasn't sure why considering what a poor conversationalist he was.

He knocked at the door of the back room and waited for a response. Musichetta had already informed him that she'd be staying in Joly's room that night. He had made his disapproval clear to the couple, though they had just laughed it off as they often did.

The thought of Eponine being in the room alone almost made him turn around and head straight home, but something inclined him to knock on the door once more. A minute passed and no sound came.

Enjolras would have just left at that point if he hadn't been concerned for Mademoiselle Jondrette's health. Without Musichetta to look after her that night her illness could become even worse. What if she died without proper treatment? Enjolras couldn't have that blood on his hands; he hesitantly opened the door, only to check for a moment.

The moon shone in through the window, illuminating the shape of a thin girl blanketed in the bed. Though her eyes were closed, she looked far from restful. A thin sheen of sweat shone on her forehead and her brows were furrowed in what appeared to be pain. Her head kept tossing back and forth as if she was trying to dispel a nightmare.

Enjolras hovered by the doorway in indecision before stepping closer to the bed to get a better look. He had no idea what to do in a situation like this. Perhaps he should wake her? She certainly seemed to be having a troubling sleep.

Eponine suddenly cried out, a shrill noise that sounded unnatural in the silence of the room.

"Mademoiselle," Enjolras said as he gently nudged her shoulder, trying to awaken her from her obviously disturbing slumber. At his touch Eponine's eyes snapped open and she looked around in confusion before her eyes settled on Enjolras, who lowered his eyes.

"Forgive me for waking you, Mademoiselle. You seemed unwell." He took a step back from the bed and cleared his throat.

Eponine said nothing, though Enjolras could see she was wiping tears away from her eyes. He turned away with embarrassment. He was alone in an unfamiliar woman's room and now she was crying. The situation couldn't possibly become any more uncomfortable for him.

"Perhaps it is best I leave you alone," he said. He turned to leave when Eponine's voice called to him, quiet but firm.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," she said, her voice still shaking from her tears. "Please stay, just for a moment." He slowly turned to see her pleading face staring back at him, her dark eyes glistening with fresh tears.

"Yes, well... Can I get you anything?" he offered, not knowing what else to say. Eponine looked almost affronted at this.

"No, of course not, Monsieur. I wouldn't trouble you like that," she said, her voice regaining its strength.

"How can you expect to get better if you don't accept help? Your father is counting on you to make a full recovery," Enjolras stated.

"Yeah?" A curious half-smile came over Eponine. "And how would you know that, Monsieur?"

"Is it such an unusual idea for a father to be concerned for his daughter's health?"

"Not for you, I'm sure," she said in a quieter voice, losing her usual wry undertone.

"I am sure your father cares very much for you," Enjolras automatically replied in what was meant to be a reassurance. At this point Eponine was looking down at her hands, leaving an awkward silence between the two.

"Not for a long time he hasn't, but I think he did once. Before, y'know- before we lost all our money," Eponine finally said, alluding to the past life she had spent as a priveleged innkeeper's daughter. It was so long ago, and yet the memory was the only thing Eponine still clung to, desperately grasping at the threadbare remains of her childhood.

Eponine had spoken to Enjolras of her past life before. It seemed to be something she took great pride in, that underneath her tangled hair and withered clothing she had once been a respectable and pampered girl. Judging by her appearance now, he himself found it hard to belief, thinking it was probably a story she had made up to comfort herself. And yet a part of him still hoped it might be true, just because the girl seemed to so desperately wish it.

"He does care, even if he doesn't show it. You should have more faith, Mademoiselle."

"Ha, faith... do you believe in God, Monsieur?" Eponine asked, looking up from her intertwined fingers to Enjolras' stony face.

"Yes," he answered simply. Eponine returned to looking at her hands before speaking again.

"I'd like to, I really would. Just thinking that God is watching and looking out for all of us is one of the nicest things I've ever heard. To think- to think that we all might have some _purpose_, and that maybe even a girl like me has my own destiny in this world. Maybe life isn't about just _surviving_, but about living and doing and feeling. It's an amazing thought, isn't it Monsieur?"

"Yes." Enjolras had no other answer. Eponine's speech had surprised him, for through her rambled thoughts was an insight Enjolras himself had often overlooked. Religion had had a presence in his life since birth and had gone hand in hand with most everything he'd been taught, but he had never thought of God as such a benevolent figure as Eponine did.

"So I'd like to believe in God for that, but it scares me at the same time. Who is this guy watching me all the time and judging me? If I believe in God I also have to believe that I'm going to be damned for my sins, 'Cuz if there's a God there's also a hell... " Eponine confessed, keeping her gaze fixed on her restless fingers.

"You can find salvation in God," Enjolras commented, repeating what he had so often been told, not knowing how else to comfort her.

"So I've heard," she said with an ironic smile. Countless times people in the street had called her a tramp or a harlot and told her that God sent people like her to hell. Others had tried to preach to her and convince her that she could repent for her sins. She hadn't listened much to either.

"But if God is so great, Monsieur, why is there so much bad in the world? Does he just hate some of us?" The question had always bothered Eponine. Was her life the way it was because she had made God angry? Why was it that some people were born to such privelege and others to poverty?

"He works in mysterious ways," Enjolras said. "But I do believe that God created us all equally, whether or not we are equal by class."

"So you're saying that to God you and me are equals?" Eponine said.

"Yes, all of us are."

"That's nice, really, but I reckon it's not true. I've seen the worst people there is, Monsieur. There's no chance you could be equal to people like that," she said, shaking her head adamantly.

"Certain people have not had the same priveleges I've been granted. We are all shaped by our lives. Those who live in poverty are unfortunately affected in more ways than most people understand," Enjolras said.

"You have so much faith in people," Eponine replied wryly. "I can't say the same. I suppose I've seen too much evil to think like that." Enjolras was silent, at a loss for words for once. He wasn't used to anyone challenging his ideas in such a way, and he was certainly more surprised that it was by this waif-like girl.

Eponine looked up and seemed to snap out of whatever trance she had been in. "I'm sorry, Monsieur. I must be boring you. I know I'm not good with words... or people."

"You haven't bored me. I confess that your opinion is quite fascinating to me," Enjolras said, his carefully crafted expression remaining unchanged. "But perhaps you should rest again. You're beginning to look pale." Eponine settled back against the pillows and pulled the blankets up tighter around her.

"Oh Monsieur, I'm fine all right. I think it's just the chill in the room," Eponine said, though her own voice seemed remarkably weaker all of a sudden.

"I'll make you a fire," Enjolras volunteered. He began to move through the process of building a fire that he had become so accustomed to since moving in to the Gorbeau House, where the poorly insulated walls led his room to be freezing most hours of the day.

"Please, Monsieur, let me do it," Eponine said, beginning to peel the quilts off herself. Enjolras shot her a warning look that was so commanding she gave up and slipped back under the blankets.

"You must stop refusing my help, Mademoiselle. You need only worry about getting better," he said as he bent over the fireplace with careful focus.

"It just doesn't feel right to be served, 'specially by someone like you, Monsieur," she admitted. "And you probably feel ashamed of it, I know. I'm really sorry 'bout all the fuss I'm causing, really."

"Don't be," he said simply. The fire was lit ablaze and the small room filled with an enveloping warmth. "You should rest now."

"I'll likely return tomorrow. I'll make sure to visit at a more reasonable hour," Enjolras said. Eponine struggled to supress her smile, leaving her mouth awkwardly crooked and strained, but her eyes revealed her happiness.

Enjolras had never enjoyed the company of women, but he found Eponine's company more than tolerable. She was different than other ladies he had been forced to converse with, women who were so empty-headed and dull that Enjolras grew bored immediately. Eponine was rather unrefined and spoke her mind more than any bourgeois lady would ever dare to, and yet it was this very quality that intruiged him. It was quite ironic that a conversation with an uneducated gamine interested him more than one with the spoiled bourgeois women his mother had always thrown in his direction.

"I'll try my best to get better. I don't want to be such a burden to you and Mademoiselle Musichetta," Eponine said assuringly.

"Don't think of yourself as a burden. It won't do you any good," Enjolras said with a straight face.

"I'll be out of here as soon as I can. I'll pay you back for everything, too, I swear," Eponine said, ignoring Enjolras's words. Too tired to argue, and seeing that doing so would only upset Eponine, Enjolras only nodded.

"Good night, Mademoiselle Jondrette," he said as he edged towards the door.

"Good night to you, Monsieur," Eponine said. "_Adieu_." Enjolras closed the door as silently as possible and walked out in to the main room of the cafe. Much to his surprise a single candle was lit on the counter of the bar. His eyes following the illuminated light, Enjolras noticed the beady eyes of the barmaid, Musichetta's mother, staring back at him, narrowed in suspicion. He nearly jumped in surprise but composed himself and nodded politely to the woman.

"What were doing in there with that dirty whore?" she croaned, looking Enjolras up and down as if to find some sort of evidence of any wrong-doing.

"She is an acquaintance of mine," Enjolras replied, well aware of the insinuous accusations the woman was making. "I trust you are aware that Mademoiselle Musichetta is caring for her while she's ill?'

"Yeah I'm aware, but don't think for one second I'm happy about it. You all are lucky I haven't thrown her out on the streets yet where she belongs," the woman chided.

"I'm grateful for your hospitality," Enjolras managed to say despite the anger her words stirred in him. Though the Madame was being terribly rude, Eponine's health relied on the woman's better nature. Upsetting her could have dire consequences.

"You haven't fooled me one bit, Monsieur. When I saw her I knew she was the girl who claimed to be Monsieur Marius's cousin, the same wench who was nosing about you two here the other day! I don't see why a respectable man like you should get tangled in an affair with common street trash like her!" Enjolras was taken aback by the woman's scandalous accusations.

"There is no such affair, I assure you," Enjolras said, struggling to keep his voice level and maintain his politeness.

"I know of your family, I do. The Enjolras's are one of the most esteemed families in Paris. It's bad enough you're getting involved in all that revolutionary nonsense, but _this_! This is even worse! Think of how shamed your parents would be if they knew you were running around with that harlot! It would be quite the scandal if they somehow _found out_," she said, putting emphasis on her last words as if to suggest she herself would inform his family.

"My parents have already cut me off and therefore have no affect on my decisions now. And even so, I promise that there is nothing improper going on between Mademoiselle Jondrette and I," Enjolras said, but the woman was relentless.

"You must take me for a fool, eh? What other interest would you have in a whore like that? Why else would you be creeping around here these late hours, going in the girl's room by yourself?" The woman's questions were dripping with disgust.

"She is neither a whore nor a harlot, but a lady, and she should be addressed as one. I have already told you that Mademoiselle Jondrette is an acquaintance of mine and nothing more. Her family is unfortunately very poor and her father did not have the money to pay a hospital bill, and so I promised I would see to it that the lady receive treatment. Tonight I was busy with my studies and stayed here later than I intended to, and before I left I decided I should check on her health. I swear to you, nothing happened. I'm very grateful for your generosity in allowing Mademoiselle Jondrette to stay here while she recovers, but I find that your accusations are both cruel and unwarranted," Enjolras said, entirely short of patience at the woman's nagging. The woman opened and closed her mouth a few times before settling on a deep frown.

"You're a respectable young man, I know. I wouldn't like to see your reputation ruined," she finally said. She nodded at him in what almost seemed to be approval. Enjolras narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"I know you're not the type to chase women like that. Lord knows your friends do, but you? No, never seen it. So I'd_ like_ to believe that you're telling the truth, and perhaps you are," she said with a slight sneer. "But if I catch you with that girl one more time, don't think I'll be so nice."

"Thank you, Madame. Monsieur Jondrette and I are both thankful for your generosity," Enjolras said with as much as careful politeness as he could muster. He backed up towards the door. "Good night."

"Yeah, good night. And stay away from that gamine!" the woman called as Enjolras walked out. "We don't want your betrothed to find out about anything like that!"


	11. Chapter 11

As Enjolras returned home he mulled over the barmaid's words. As abrupt as she had been he knew there was some truth in her words. It had been inappropriate of him to visit a lady so late at night, especially one who was bed-ridden and alone. In his right mind he would have never dared such a thing. Perhaps he was becoming too familiar with Eponine.

And yet the madame's shrill voice still rang in his head. _A whore like that_

_What right does she have to comment on a lady's own personal business in such an accusing manner?_ Enjolras thought with a subconscious frown marring his typically stony expression. Even if Eponine were a prostitute, it was not the woman's place to make such judgements.

Though he knew fully well it was wrong of him to even be considering such things, Enjolras himself doubted that Eponine was a prostitute. All of the prostitues he had seen hanging out in dark corners had an altogether worn out and defeated appearance, dull, glazed eyes and an ever-present scowl. Eponine's face, though grimy and smudged, still had a suggestion of youth and vivacity in her clever eyes and rare smile. Though it was clear she had not led an easy life, she had not yet hardened herself against the world like most of the other miserables had.

One thing was utterly clear to him, though: it would be unwise to visit Eponine again in the Cafe Musain. As innocent as his intentions were, being caught with her a second time would surely have her thrown back out on the streets.

But that wasn't Enjolras's only thinking. These last few days had proven that Eponine was certainly becoming something of a distraction to him, and now more than ever he needed to be focused on his cause. She was certainly in good hands and well on the way to recovery, he reasoned. He would have to trust that she'd be well taken care of until she was well enough to return home, and then all connection between the two would be broken.

It was far easier said than done.

* * *

Enjolras was hovering just outside his door, about to step inside, when he heard voices coming from the neighboring apartment. Strange, he thought, that the Jondrettes should be awake at such a late hour. He had already told the family how Eponine survived the night that morning, but he decided it would be good to give them another update on her health so as to ease their worries.

Enjolras knocked twice and sensed an immediate hush in the room, followed by a series of inconspicuous footsteps before the door opened a few inches, revealing a pair of bulbous green eyes and an unshaven face. The man indiscreetly turned around and whispered to an unseen person behind him, "It's that student again... Yeah, the tall one... He's not _that_ handsome! ... Well, maybe you should just marry him then, eh?" Enjolras shifted his stance and pretended not to listen out of respect, though it was impossible not to hear Jondrette's raspy attempt at a whisper.

Monsieur Jondrette turned back to Enjolras and opened the door the rest of the way, a forced smile plastered on his face. Though it was obvious he was attepmpting to appear friendly, his yellowed rotted teeth and shifty eyes made him appear more menacing than anything. "Come in, Monsieur Student. You are always welcome in Jondrette's home, so long as you pay." He chuckled robustly and added, "A joke, Monsieur!" though he eyed Enjolras's pockets discerningly.

The room was much the same as it had been that morning, though the broken window had now been crudely boarded up. Jondrette's wife, a devious looking woman with unruly cascades of black curls reminiscent of Eponine's, was standing in the middle of the room with her own interpretation of a smile. Her arms were crossed and her narrow black eyes flitted between her husband and Enjolras without settling one for more than a few seconds.

Enjolras almost didn't notice Eponine's sister as she sat restlessly on a grimy mattress in the corner of the room, her vapid form blending in with the dull wall behind her. The young girl's legs were tightly drawn up to her chest, her hitched up skirt slightly unveiling her bruised and knobby knees. She eyed Enjolras scrutingly with her round dark eyes while otherwise remaining completely invisible.

The small space was completed with a dwindling fire lit in the fireplace, though it offered very little comfort or warmth to the barren room. Enjolras cleared his throat and shifted the load of books in his arms before greeting the family politely.

"I came to bring you more news of your daughter's health," he said. "I apologize for visiting so late, but I assumed you would be interested in hearing of her condition."

"Of course, Monsieur," Jondrette said, gushing emotion overzealously. He took a few steps closer and clamped his filthy hands together. "Tell me how my beloved Evonine is!"

"Eponine," Madame Jondrette corrected.

"That's what I said," he remarked gruffly before resuming his dramatic act of anguish.

"I dare say her health is improving," Enjolras answered.

"She's a tough one, I told alla you!" said Jondrette, grinning his rotted smile. "She's gonna come back tommorow?"

"I'm afraid that's unlikely. What your daughter really needs right now is rest and time to recover. It may be some time before she returns to you, unfortunately," Enjolras explained. Jondrette wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"How long we talkin' here? It's a big financial blow, you see, having our Eponine away from us. We've been struggling as it is, you know," Jondrette said, drumming his fingers together. "Perhaps I've mentioned the window? And my starving family?"

"I'm certainly not a doctor, but I don't believe you can expect her to recover before a week's end. These things take time, I understand," Enjolras admitted.

"Ohh, what will I do without Eponine! We could starve in a week!" Jondrette cried melodramatically.

"You have a heart, Monsieur. Perhaps you could spare some change for a poor family," the Madame spoke, stepping forward with her eyebrows raised.

"I assure you, Madame, I myself have very little money," he said. Nevertheless, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. "But I suppose I can spare you this modest amount." It was some of the little money he had left, but he placed it in Jondrette's hands regardless. There was no doubt they needed it far more than he did. While his money supply was sparse, he hadn't ever needed to worry how he would afford his next meal or whether he would survive the week.

Jondrette dropped the coins into his pocket and patted the small sum with a satisfied smirk. "Good Monsieur, your generosity is much appreciated."

"I hope that amount is serviceable," Enjolras said with a nod.

"Money is money, of course," Jondrette remarked with a slight chuckle. "But say, what's your interest in my Eponine anyways? You're being awful friendly, aren't you." Enjolras cringed on the inside. He had hardly shown the slightest interest in a woman before, and now when he only meant to practice his philosophy of helping the poor everybody was suddenly questioning his intentions. It was becoming a tiresome waste of time refuting their suspicions.

"I am simply helping a lady as a gentleman should," Enjolras replied impatiently, wanting to avoid the discussion altogether.

"Come on, even a gentleman like yourself can't deny the girl's a pretty one. She's scrawny and a bit tough to chew, yes, but she has her own charms. She takes after her mother, of course," Madame Jondrette chimed in, attempting a charming smile that instead had the opposite effect.

"Tell you what: I'll let you have her as long as you like for just a small sum daily. I'm a fair man, y'see, an honest one, too! We have a deal?" Jondrette offerred. Enjolras could hardly believe what he was hearing. He had been able to tell that the Jondrettes didn't have the highest of morals, but he had never suspected they would sell their own daughter out to a near stranger.

"That's really not necessary, I assure you. I simply could not accept such an offer," he said firmly, careful to keep his voice level despite his inner qualms. "I don't have an interest in her the way that you suggest."

"Suit yourself. Perhaps you'd like my other daughter," Jondrette said with a shrug, pointing at Eponine's younger sister. The girl looked down when their eyes turned on her but had a flicker of a smile on her lips, perhaps at the simple verification of her existence.

"No, Monsieur Jondrette. I have told you I'm not interested in such an offer," Enjolras repeated firmly. Jondrette looked slightly affronted but said nothing. Seeing the opportune moment to flee the room and the uncomfortable converation, he took a few steps towards the door and nodded once again to the Jondrettes. "Thank you for having me, but I'm afraid I must be leaving. It's very late now."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," Jondrette said with a dismissive wave. "You know where to find me if you change your mind"

"Good night to all of you," he said as he stepped out the door and entered his own room.

"Cheap student," Madame scoffed. "The other one pays better."

"Won't even pay for a whore," Jondrette grumbled. "I suppose he don't pay for his bread either."

"How much has he given us, Papa?" Azelma said as she stood up from her perch and tentatively approached her father.

"Hardly worth a shit," he muttered crossly. He took a small jar out from a crevice in the wall and deposited Enjolras's coins in the partially filled container. "Cheap indeed."

* * *

Eponine's recovery process was far slower than she had anticipated, and she found herself growing restless and impatient every day she spent in the back room of the Cafe. Even with the lifestyle she had maintained for the past many years she did not get sick often, an outlier exception in the generally unhealthy population of the slums. But where she lived, when one did get sick they did not often get well again. Most perished before one could even blink an eye.

Perhaps that would have been her fate if Enjolras hadn't intervened.

Eponine found she was quite conflicted in this thinking. If it was true that he had saved her life again, it would mean that she was only further indebted to him, an act she'd never be able to repay and was therefore contemptful of. But it also meant that Enjolras considered her life to be worth saving, twice even.

She had never considered her life to be a particularly valuable commodity. When your sole purpose was to eek out a living in the most vile and depricating ways possible, one didn't waste time with ambiguous questions of morality. She simply put her head down and did what had to be done to ensure her continued existence. There was no worth, no value or beauty, in anything she did; it was simply for the continuance of her pitiful survival.

And most of all, Eponine had always looked after her own self. From her earliest time spent on the streets she realized that she could neither trust nor rely on anyone but herself. Her own parents hardly gave a damn about her existence except for whatever sustinence she could provide for them.

The new reality of the past week was therefore an unusual and unfamiliar experience for Eponine. Having a warm bed of her own, a steady stream of hearty food- they were all divine pleasures she would have only imagined in her idling fantasies.

She spent a large majority of her time sleeping. Though the bed was far from grand, it was softer and more inviting than any place Eponine had ever slept. The fluffy pillows and slightly scratchy quilts were more of a comfort to her broken body than anything during her recovery. Whatever her illness was, it made her lethargic and drowsy most of the time so that she could hardly keep her eyes open for more than an hour or two. Whenever she closed her eyes for another session of sleep, she often found that she didn't care whether she ever woke up or not. Her abstract dreams were more welcoming than her own depressing reality had ever been.

Musichetta slipped into Eponine's temporary room from time to time, usually to bring food or retrieve something from her wardrobe, but didn't offer much company. Eponine was used to solitude and somehow almost enjoyed it, but she did find herself missing her sister. As frustrating as Azelma could be sometimes, she offered an outlet to Eponine to vent of her secretest desires and innermost feelings. The two had a certain understanding and mutual bond, a relationship that comforted both of them in their darkest times.

Eponine was sitting awake on the night marking a week spent in the Cafe Musain. After sleeping through nearly the whole day she found herself slightly restless, though she had nothing to do in the room but stare at the ceiling and muse on the dreams she had had earlier that day. They were just out of reach of her memory now and she was straining her brain trying to remember and go back to the place that had delighted her so much.

Musichetta entered the room with little ado, a small tray balanced in her hands. She set the tray of food on the bedside table but didn't hurry off as usual. Instead she lingered on and seemed to inspect Eponine appraisingly. Eponine hesitantly began to eat the food while trying to avoid Musichetta's gaze, though after a minute she couldn't bear it any longer.

"What is it?" she asked carefully. "Have I done something wrong?" Musichetta narrowed her green eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing, just getting a good look at you. I haven't seen you up much, you spend the whole days sleeping away," she said with a hint of a friendly smile. Eponine held her gaze for a few seconds before returning to the slightly watery soup.

"M'afraid I'm not much to look at," Eponine mumbled apologetically. Although Musichetta had certainly not given Eponine any reason to feel uncomfortable, she was afraid to have a conversation with her for fear of sounding stupid or lowly.

"Nonsense, I'd say you're looking better already," Musichetta remarked, misunderstanding Eponine. "You have more color in your cheeks, that's for sure, and I dare say you've even put on a little weight."

"It's thanks to your kindess, Mademoiselle," Eponine said with a hesitant smile. The conversation halted for a moment until Eponine broke the silence, gathering up the courage to ask the question that had been on her mind for nearly a week. "How is Monsieur Enjolras?"

"Monsieur Enjolras? I reckon he's the same as always. He never changes much," Musichetta said with a genial laugh. "I've never met a man more stubborn or set in his ways than him." Eponine smiled at Musichetta's light teasing, though her smile faded when deeper thoughts of the student came to her mind.

"Why hasn't he come to visit me again? He promised he would," Eponine said. There had been no sign of him since that first night he had visited her. She had begun to worry that something had happened to him, or that perhaps he was simply trying to avoid her.

"He's a busy man," Musichetta said with a shrug. "I don't know him too well, but Joly says he's been working longer hours than ever."

"He's prob'ly forgot all about me," Eponine said softly, stirring her soup absentmindedly.

"Don't feel too bad. He has more important things to worry about," she said, hardly a comfort to her distress. Eponine frowned, though she knew Musichetta was right. The red-headed woman looked at Eponine with new discerning curiousity. "How old are you anyways?"

"Sixteen."

"My, you're young," Musichetta remarked in an undeniably condescing tone.

"I'm older than you'd think, miss. I've seen and done plenty for my age," she replied, crossing her arms across her chest defensively.

"Of course, little girls like you always think you know everything," Musichetta said with a teasing smile.

"I am not a little girl! And don't mock me like that!" Eponine said indignantly.

"I'm not mocking you, it's the truth. Don't you think I was young before?" she patronized, maintaining her humored smirk.

"You're not so old yourself," Eponine remarked.

"I'm twenty three, I'm practically an old maid compared to a baby like you!" Musichetta exclaimed.

"You_ are_ mocking me!" Eponine objected. Musichetta's smirk broke free to a hearty laugh at Eponine's offended expression.

"You are so funny, you know that? You sure do have a fiery temper. I don't mean to mock you, of course. Don't you think I'd like to be your age again?" Eponine settled down a little but was still slightly bristled.

"There's nothing great about being young," she replied. "It's just another reason for people to step all over you."

"You needn't be so offended. I meant it as a compliment," Musichetta said lightly, still looking quite humored at Eponine's expense. "I found my first wrinkle this morning. Next thing I know a gray hair will pop up and I'll start looking like my mother!" Eponine cracked the smallest of smiles and relented her anger with a sigh.

"Your mother hates me, doesn't she," Eponine stated. The old woman had only entered her room once and had said nothing, but she had given Eponine such a look of utter contempt that her feelings were clearly conveyed. She remembered the encounter she had had with the woman the first time she entered the cafe and the terrible way she had been treated. At the time she thought nothing of it, though, believing it was the kind of treatment she deserved.

"My mother hates everyone," Musichetta replied with a forced and insincere smile.

"But me especially."

"Yes, you especially, I suppose. But don't take it personally, she doesn't like anyone she considers beneath her. She's snobbier than a bourgeois," Musichetta said.

"I don't mean to be a burden," Eponine apologized, though she suspected this wasn't the only reason the Madame hated her so much.

"Perhaps.. Perhaps you should avoid Monsieur Enjolras," Musichetta said carefully. "My mother's convinced herself that you're going to ruin him."

"Ruin him?" Eponine said. Her stomach suddenly felt queasy and she set aside the nearly empty bowl of soup "But I haven't done anything, I swear!"

"Well, if a girl like you is seen with a gentleman like him... Some nasty rumors could start," she warned.

"I'm not a whore! I've not done anything like that, 'specially not with Monsieur Enjolras!" Eponine responded indignantly. As much as her father had tried to whore her out, Eponine had always avoided the profession for other money-making endeavors. She considered becoming a prostitute the lowest mark of a human being and had promised herself she would die before succumbing to that level. Once a person had sold their body, there was nothing to remain living for.

"I'm not saying you have, I'm just saying you should be careful. People talk, you know," Musichetta said, her tone devoid of all of its former folly.

"Well you can tell all of them to fuck off," Eponine muttered, her feelings genuinely hurt. She wasn't too offended that people mistook her for a prostitute, a common mistake considering her position. She was more offended that people thought that an honorable gentleman like Monsieur Enjolras would keep a whore like her. It was the deepest insult to a respectable man like him.

"I've offended you again I suppose," Musichetta said with a slightly twisted scowl. She picked up the tray on the table and headed towards the door. As she stepped outside she turned and added, "Get some rest." With a swish of her skirts she was gone and Eponine was left alone in the room once more.

She took up staring at the ceiling and trying to remember her distant dream again, but the unpleasant thoughts that the conversation with Musichetta stirred plagued her mind and refused to leave her be. Finally giving up in the losing battle, Eponine closed her eyes, hoping to drift back in to her dream world and forget all of the pain.

Before Eponine fell asleep one thought was clear in her mind: as upsetting as it was that Musichetta's mother had mistaken her for Enjolras' whore, she found it exciting that someone had thought the two were romantically involved. It was a distant fantasy that she herself had visited in her dreamland.

* * *

Azelma ascended the rickety staircase slowly, as if her feet were encased in cement. They may as well have been, considering the way they ached to the point that they threatened to fall off at any moment. Each weighted step brought her closer to home, the exact place she dreaded to return to each day.

Since Eponine had been gone her father had expected her to pick up the slack and earn more money around town. But Azelma was not Eponine. She didn't have the guts or the nimble fingers for pickpocketing and she had no knowledge of the city the way that Eponine did. Yesterday she had barely managed to obtain one coin, and it was only because some old bourgeois woman had seen her young face and taken pity. Today, however, she was returning home completely empty-handed.

Knowing that she couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, Azelma pushed open the door to her apartment and kept her head down, well aware that her father's intense gaze was fixed on her. Without looking up she shuffled to her mattress and made herself as small as possible in the corner before finally braving a look at her father. The dangerous look in his eyes frightened Azelma, and the empty bottle on the table told her that he'd been drinking. A bad combination, she knew from experience.

"Whatdya got, girl," he slurred with a nod to her, noticably drunk. Azelma huddled tighter and tried to shrink further against the wall, hoping that he might forget her now as he so often did.

"I- I got nothing, Papa," she said in a near whisper.

"What you say?" he growled, standing up and taking a few steps toward her huddled form. At this point Azelma was almost in tears. She tried to answer him in a brave tone, the way Eponine would sometimes face off against him, but only a few whimpers came out.

"You useless bitch!" he roared before the first blow came down on her, a major shock to her whole body. The first hit was always the worst. She took the full force of her father's drunken rage without saying a word, though she couldn't help but utter out a sharp cry every time his fist struck her again. After the initial blow the rest were slightly numbed and the pain dulled, but perhaps this was because her consciousness was fading. Even as the world turned dark around her the pain seemed neverending.

Tomorrow would be different. Azelma didn't care what it would take; Tommorow she'd come home with pockets full of coins or she wouldn't come home at all.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update, I've been super busy lately! But on the bright side I've already outlined the next 10 chapters, so hopefully I'll be getting those out faster. I'm also working on editing some of the previous chapters. So far I've edited chapters 1 and 2, though I didn't make any huge changes.**

**Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. I can promise there's a lot more drama in store!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I got so busy with school and everything I decided to take a short hiatus. Hopefully it won't happen again, plus it's summer now so I can update much more often. In case you forgot what's happened (I even forgot almost everything and had to reread it all!) here's a short summary of what's happened up to now:**

(1) Enjolras is cut off and moves in with marius next door to Eponine, (2) Eponine is sent to ask the students for money and is told to follow them next day, (3) Eponine and Azelma meet Montparnasse on the street and tell him they have a job, (4) The girls follow the students and find out about the revolution. Eponine is pushed off a bridge by patron-minette after refusing to give up info about Enjolras, (5) Enjolras saves Eponine, (6) Gavroche pickpockets Enjolras, but Eponine gets the money back. She sees Cosette and Valjean (7) and eponine tells gang about Valjean, delivers letter to him, returns enjolras' pickpocketed money, (8) Eponine thwarts robbery out of guilt, gets sick, and is taken by enjolras (9) enjolras brings eponine to joly, she moves in with musichetta, and he visits her next morning (10) enjolras visits eponine at night, barmaid accuses him of an affair with herand reveals he has a fiancee (11) eponine is recovering while azelma is beaten

* * *

Another week and a half passed before Eponine was fully feeling herself again. By this time her entire appearance had taken on a much healthier turn. Her cheeks were no longer sunken in, her ribs didn't stick out as far as they used to, and even her hair seemed livelier. All of the food, rest, and care had done her a world of good.

"Are you sure you're ready to leave? You're feeling completely better?" Musichetta asked Eponine, who was sitting up in bed attentively.

"I'm fine, really. It's been nearly three weeks now, I've stayed too long as it is," Eponine said. She turned to the side so that her legs were dangling over the edge of the bed.

"So that's it then? You're leaving?"

Eponine nodded and stood up from the bed, making sure not to sway at all under Musichetta's scrutinizing gaze. She took her first steps toward the door, ready to venture back out into the world that she had been shut out of for too long.

"Well you won't be leaving like that!" Musichetta said scornfully, motioning to Eponine's appearance.

"It's how I always look," she replied, fingering her flimsy skirt with a defensive pout.

"It's no wonder you got sick in the first place then! Every inch of you is covered in that blasted dirt!" Musichetta clucked disapprovingly as she inspected Eponine's clothing. "I'll run you a bath so I can get you all washed up."

Musichetta walked out in to the adjoining room, a small washroom with an empty tub set in it. The redhead got to work filling it, gathering buckets of water to heat over the fire before dumping them in the tub. Eponine reluctantly joined her, knowing that when Musichetta's mind was set on something it was impossible to deter her.

"It's useless to take a bath. I'll just get dirty again," Eponine commented as they worked.

"If we all thought like that no one would ever wash themselves," Musichetta said with a light chuckle.

"You know what I mean."

"A little bath never hurt anyone, Eponine! All that dirt's not good for a person. You might have fleas or something!" Musichette commented.

"I do not have fleas!" she cried indignantly. "And I never said I _wouldn't_ take a bath, I just think it's useless. I really should be going home." She constantly worried over Azelma, remembering the way her father would take his misery and frustration out on her during particularly difficult times. Eponine could only hope that Azelma had been able to earn her keep and fend for herself without her sister's help. Both were highly unlikely.

"Come now, what are you in such a rush to go home for anyways? Haven't you enjoyed staying here after all I've done for you?" Musichetta sounded affronted, though it was difficult for Eponine to differentiate between her being offended and her usual sarcastic, joking behavior.

"Of course I liked it here. I'm very grateful to you, Mademoiselle," Eponine said, swallowing back her fears to put on a light tone.

"I've told you not to call me that," Musichetta said with a teasing smile. "For a street girl you're pretty formal sometimes."

"Only to my betters," Eponine replied. "I know my place."

"Hey, don't talk like that! Can't we act like we're friends after all this? I don't have many friends, you know," Musichetta said. "Girls seem to find me off-putting for some reason." Eponine could understand why, with Musichetta's odd sense of humor and blunt remarks.

"You have Monsieur Joly," Eponine offered.

"I didn't say men find me off-putting," Musichetta said with a wink. Eponine smiled in spite of herself. "So what, are we friends?"

"I don't got much friends either. Just you and my sister, I suppose," Eponine said with a small smile. Musichetta's smile was magnified and she laughed.

"Good. Since we're friends now, will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Get in the bath!" Musichetta commanded. Eponine looked at the tub, which by now was mostly filled with partially warm water. Her stomach churned at the thought of getting in based on her last experience with water, which had almost ended in her drowning.

"Will you leave the room?" Eponine asked after a few moments of consideration. The thought of another human being seeing her naked body intimidated her even more than the idea of taking a bath.

"You are an odd one," Musichetta mused with a humored smile. "You walk around all day in naught but thin little clothes and suddenly you're all modesty?" Eponine tugged at her dirty blouse self consciously and stared in to the swirling waters in the tub.

"There's a big difference between naked and what I got on!" Eponine said defensively. She thought of her embarrassingly skinny limbs and numerous scars and bruises and knew that exposure was not an option if she wanted to maintain at least some sort of dignity.

"I know, I'm just teasing you! Honestly, you get so worked up sometimes!" Musichetta chuckled. "Just toss your clothes out once they're off so I can give them a good wash. Let's hope they don't dissintegrate in the water." She laughed to herself once more as she exited the room for a towel before leaving once more.

When she was gone Eponine slowly peeled off her clothing. Her skirt, which she could recall once being a pretty cherry-red color, had faded in to an unattractive red-brown shade. Her blouse fared no better; it was so stained and worn that the once white color had transformed into a patchy grayish-tan. Eponine folded the clothes as neatly as she could and quickly set them outside the door for Musichetta to clean, though she suspected fifty washes couldn't get all the grime out of them.

Eponine reluctantly looked down at her naked form and inspected herself closely. Her arms and legs were still spindly, but they were certainly thicker than they had been two weeks ago. Though her stomach was still quite flat, it didn't groan and protest the way it used to. Even her bruises had begun to fade from her body. The last step was to come clean.

With a deep breath Eponine stepped in to the tub, pleasantly surprised at its relative warmth. She slipped underneath the surface until she was entirely immersed in the bathwater. The water quickly turned a murky color as Eponine applied a bar of soap to all her surfaces and scrubbed away the dirt that had clung to her skin.

After a significant amount of time spent scrubbing, Eponine began working at her hair. During the time she had spent in the cafe it had become matted and even more tangled than usual. Eponine carefully weaved her fingers through her knotted tresses and applied soap to her hair until it was consumed with the suds. She scrubbed away with her fingers, enjoying the almost euphoric feeling of cleanliness.

She dipped her head underwater and washed away all the soap and remnants of grime. Content that she was finished with her washing, Eponine stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel. She was disgusted to see the water was a disturbing shade of murky brown, the same color of the dirt that had been caked on to her. In true irony, being dirty had never bothered her so much until she was clean.

How odd it was to look down and see the true color of her skin rather than the ashy brown shade it usually was. Her olive skin was surprisingly smooth and glowy in comparison to its former state.

Eponine thoroughly dried herself with the towel, taking extra care to wring out her wet hair, before stepping to the door and poking her head out. Musichetta's back was turned to her as she stripped the sheets off the bed, no doubt preparing to wash them as Eponine had dirtied them up so much.

"Musichetta," she called out softly, prompting the young woman to turn her head. "Have you got my clothes ready?" Musichetta smiled mischeviously and grabbed something out of her open wardrobe.

"I have something even better for you," she said. Through the small open gap in the door she shoved a clean frock and white cotton shift. Eponine took it in her hands but protested nevertheless.

"I can't wear this! I'll dirty it, Musichetta! Please just give my regular clothes. I'll look funny in this," Eponine begged of Musichetta.

"I haven't worn that old thing since I was younger than you!" Musichetta replied. "I would be relieved to have you take it off my hands."

"Musichetta-"

"Sometimes it's hard to be nice to you when you won't let me! Take the dress, Eponine," Musichetta insisted with a impatient edge. Eponine could see that her friend wouldn't budge, and so she closed the door without another word.

The fabric was slightly worn but still soft. Its material was far from luxurious and was rather simple, but Eponine found its pale yellow color and white ascents pretty. It slipped easily over her shift and fit rather comfortably, though it was obvious the dress was not tailored to her form. Its hem was a few inches too short due to Eponine's height and the entire thing fit a bit too loosely over her thin frame. It was neither fashionable nor particularly pretty, but there was no denying it suited her far better than her former clothing.

Eponine stepped out of the washing room and into Musichetta's bedroom, where she had spread out Eponine's wet clothes to dry. Eponine had been right; the color of her dirty clothes had changed very little despite their thorough washing.

"Oh, Eponine!" Musichetta exclaimed. "You're a lady!" She laughed heartily and hustled Eponine over to the mirror in the corner.

It took a few moments for the puzzling image to comprehend in Eponine's mind. She was still the same Eponine, only a cleaner, better version of herself. Her skin was smooth and free of blemish, her long hair was still tamed by its dampness, and her features were rounded out for a more well-fed, healthy appearance. The most remarkable change was brought on by the dress, though. As simple and ill-fitting as it was, it was a dramatic difference in comparison to her regular shanty attire.

"I'm different," Eponine said, feeling both apprehensive and slightly uncomfortable. She looked as if she was playing dress up in someone else's clothes, which was certainly true to a certain degree.

She felt a sudden tugging at the back of her head and realized Musichetta was fixing her hair. In a matter of minutes Musichetta had pinned Eponine's damp curls up against her head. It was a rather sloppy job due to Eponine's sheer amount of uncontrollable hair, but it suited her nonetheless. Eponine never wore her hair back-she had never even owned a hair pin-and was unaware of the startling effect it would have on the contours of her face. Her broad forehead, the arch of her brows, and her dark eyes were exposed in a way she was unaccustomed to. She felt self-conscious having her face so exposed in the open.

"There, you're ready now," Musichetta said with a self-satisfied smile. "And looking better, I must say." Eponine stared at herself a little longer, turning this way and that to view her new self in the mirror at all different angles. The girl definitely didn't match her fantasy of an enchantingly beautiful Cendrillon, but it was probably as close as Eponine would ever get to looking like a princess.

"You are too good," Eponine said oblingingly, forcing a reluctant smile to her lips. She turned away from the mirror to look at Musichetta, who was obviously looking at her creation with a sense of pride.

"I made you a lady, didn't I!" Musichetta exclaimed, clasping her hands together in delight. Eponine nodded sadly, though she knew well that a bath and new clothes didn't make her a lady. Nothing ever would.

"I'm real thankful, I am, but I really got to be going now," Eponine said. "I'll pay you back soon for everything, I promise!"

"Pay me back? You can hardly afford the dirt on your back, Eponine!" Musichetta remarked. "It's really not necessary. I liked pampering you! It was like having my own little doll, like I was young again."

"I'm gonna pay you back, you'll see," Eponine said with a curt nod, ignoring Musichetta's protest. Musichetta brushed this off with a wave of her hand.

"Pay me back with your company. Promise you'll come to visit some time? I do get awful lonely around here sometimes," she said.

"Yes, I'll try," Eponine confirmed. She didn't care to visit Musichetta, but her curiousity still got the better of her about the meetings that took place upstairs. The revolutionary students had an exciting appeal that Eponine hadn't forgotten during her stay in Musichetta's room. She was never one for politics, but she still found their ideas interesting. Of course, Enjolras could make anything he was passionate about sound interesting. As distant as he often seemed in conversation, his oratory and persuasive skills were remarkable.

The two exited the bedroom into the main dining area of the cafe, where a few customers mulled about despite the early hour. Eponine's old clothes were gathered in her arms as she prepared to leave.

"Oh, you must visit! I've grown a bit fond of you these last few weeks. I think I'd miss you terribly if you didn't visit some time," Musichetta said, giving a quick hug and smile to Eponine.

Eponine wasn't sure why anyone would feel an attachment to her. Musichetta hardly listened to anything she said, either. The girl preferred the sound of her own voice to any. Perhaps that was why she liked Eponine's company. While Eponine was trapped in bed, Musichetta could ramble on endlessly to her without pause.

"You've been too good to me, Musichetta," Eponine said with a grateful smile. Despite Musichetta's faults, there was no question that she had saved Eponine's life, and for that Eponine knew she was permanently indebted to her. "Thanks again, and thank Monsieur Joly for me."

"Whatever for?"

"He was stuck with you while I was in your bed," Eponine smiled teasingly, earning a soft shove from Musichetta.

"Yes, Monsieur Joly suffered greatly," she agreed with a wink as Eponine turned towards the door. "Adieu, my friend! Take care of yourself or I'll be seeing you here in my bed again!"

"Adieu, Musichetta."

The early afternoon sun blinded Eponine as she stepped outside for the first time in two and a half weeks. After a few hard blinks she was able to orient herself, taking in the somwhat comforting sight of the busy streets and bustling crowds, and started her trek home to the Gorbeau House. Though she was certainly scared what she might find there, her return was inevitable and better faced sooner than later.

The cold stone of the path was still familiar on her still bare feet, but her changed self was evident in the manner that people regarded her- or their lack of regard for her. She didn't get suspicious glances or glares from the assorted bourgeois going by in their carriages. In fact, no one seemed to think of her as out-of-place at all. Eponine blended in seamlessly with the regular working class people.

But as Eponine took each step away from the Cafe she felt a slight tug in her heart. She realized just how different her life had been for the past two and a half weeks, where she had been waited on and fed with no responsiblities. She was dreading facing the world again after her break from reality, where she had somehow been able to pretend she wasn't a criminal, that she didn't steal in order to eke out a living, and that her parents didn't despise her. The warm room in the back of the Cafe Musain was in the past now, just another of her shattered fantasies.

She would go on the same way she always had, taking money where she could, avoiding her father when possible, running errands. The only perk was that Eponine might see her neighbor Enjolras again. Even if she wasn't permitted to talk to him any more, seeing him would still make her happy enough to keep on going through the cycle of living. Though he obviously had little regard for her, she couldn't help but admire him, even from a distance. What else did she have to look forward to anyways?

Eponine usually kept her head down and avoided eye contact when walking through the streets, but with her changed appearance she felt liberated enough to look about her as she made her way along. Her favorite thing to look at were the carriages, like small moving palaces carried by majestic horses. She had been in a mule-driven cart before when her family left the inn forever that one night, but it was hardly the same thing as the vessels that rolled through the Paris streets.

Still caught in her entracement, Eponine noticed a particularly wealthy looking young woman standing close to the edge of the street. Eponine was admiring the fine fabric of her dress and the intricate details enviously when she noticed one of the carriages drive over a rock, tipping the cart and causing it to swerve off the road. Moving faster than she could think, Eponine reached out and pulled the wealthy woman to the side so that the carriage narrowly missed hitting her. It righted itself once more and continued on unharmed, but from the terrified look in the woman's eyes she understood how close she had come to her death.

"Mademoiselle, are you hurt?" asked an older looking man who had ran over to stand beside the girl.

"No, Ben.. I'm fine," the girl said breathlessly, though her hand was pressed to her heart and her alabaster skin had turned an even paler shade. She looked up at Eponine for the first time and regarded her with a surprising warmth. "Good heavens, you've just saved my life!"

"I'm happy to have been of service," Eponine replied carefully. She bowed her head and made her best effort at a curtsy. Even if she had saved the woman's life, her actions could have been seen as improper for the way she had grabbed the lady and forcibly pulled her back. Eponine only hoped that the good she did outweighed the nature of her action, but from the woman's hesitant smile it was apparent she was nothing but grateful.

"What's your name?" the lady asked.

"It's Eponine, miss."

"Eponine? Like the old story?"

"Yes. It was one of my mother's favorites," Eponine explained, remembering her mom's fondness for sappy tales like Eponine and Sabinus.

"What a charming name. Eponine was a faithful and virtuous wife," she said with a small appreciative smile. "Where do you work, Eponine?"

"I haven't got a job, miss."

"Oh, how unfortunate that is. I was going to thank your employer and suggest he give you a raise," the lady said, furrowing her brow. Her expression lightened suddenly and she said, "You've done me an enormous service today in saving my life. You seem like a nice girl- doesn't she, Ben? Perhaps you would like to come work for me? We could use another maid around the house." The bourgeoise lady looked to Ben, likely her manservant, for confirmation in her idea. He nodded and she set her gaze back on Eponine, waiting for her response.

An honest job with an honesty paycheck, two things Eponine was not accustomed to. She recognized that this could be her chance to break out of the lowliest slums, even if it meant just becoming a working-class girl.

"That would be wonderful," Eponine smiled without hesitation.

"Splendid! Benjamin and I were just leaving for home. You may join us and we can discuss al the details," the lady said.

"Miss?" Eponine started as they walked along.

"Mademoiselle Elise-Victoire Beaumont," Ben corrected.

"Mademoiselle Beaumont," she began again, "I can't thank you enough for the job, but... when may I leave to visit my family? I worry how they'll get on without me."

"All of our maids get one day off in the week," Elise said. "Do not fret. You will have your's soon enough."

Eponine couldn't help but fret. By the time she'd be able to contact her family again it would be three weeks since she had last seen them. Anything could happen in three weeks for the Thenardiers. They could be dead or in jail or even moved out of Paris. Her mother, father, and Azelma were anything but perfect, but they were still all she had in the world. As lonely as she often felt, it would be nothing in comparison to being without a home, family, or friend in the world.

But here was her chance to finally do some good. She'd be doing honest work and making honest wages, hopefully enough to support her family and pay back Enjolras and Musichetta eventually. If she saved up enough, that is.

Most of all, though, Eponine couldn't believe her incredible luck. She had been nursed back to health by a total stranger, given decent garments to wear, and obtained a job in less than three weeks. It was more luck than she had had in her entire life.

_Something's not right_, she thought. _Something bad is bound to happen to me soon._

Good things did not just happen to Eponine Thenardier.


	13. Chapter 13

The Beaumont estate was every bit as grand as Eponine could have ever imagined, grander even. When the trio first arrived outside the gates she was convinced Monsieur Beaumont had to be a king to live in such a palace.

The building itself was rather simple in its rectangular shape and whitewashed walls, but the sheer size and elegance of the Beaumont residence displayed their enormous wealth. And though the exterior was simple, the interior was anything but.

Eponine had to stifle her gasp of wonder as she followed Ben and Elise into the household and took in the beauty and sophistication of the room. The high ceiling was complemented by the intricate wallpaper and crystal chandelier and everywhere Eponine looked there was a magnificent piece of art or furniture. She was so afraid to touch anything, fearful her once soiled fingers would somehow plague the perfection of the place.

Montparnasse would no doubt scoff at how impractical the estate was and ridicule the Beaumonts for the gawdy decoration. Eponine, however, found herself drawn to it all like a moth to candlelight. She couldn't help but think that this was the kind of life she might have- should have- had.

_You are only a servant here_, she reminded herself. _And before now you were a criminal_. It had been surprisingly easy to forget herself lately.

"How do you find our estate?" Elise asked as she glided across the tiled floor with Ben at her side. Eponine followed after her with hollow footsteps as she continued to take in her surroundings, her starved eyes going over every minute detail.

"It's grand," Eponine said simply, knowing her eager head turning was enough to show her delight. Elise giggled triumphantly and led Eponine to a door.

"The servants' quarters are down here," she said as she pushed the door open to reveal a dimly lit staircase. "Ben may show you around from here." With an elegant turn Elise was gone and Eponine was prodded down the stairs by the aging manservant.

In the hallway at the bottom of the steps Eponine followed Ben to one of the many doors and stepped inside as he opened it for her.

"Your room," he said simply, standing in the doorway as Eponine looked around. It would be hardly more than a closet to a family like the Beaumonts, and yet it was the only time Eponine had ever had her own room. Even while her family owned their inn she had had to share a room and bed with Azelma.

A small bed sat against the wall with a crude dresser seated across from it in the otherwise empty space. Eponine stepped forward, her bare feet cold on the stone floor.

"I will send someone with your new uniform and work assignments momentarily," Ben said before leaving, perceptibly scowling. He had an unmistakable snooty air about him, she noted grudgingly, as if he had been serving the bourgeoise long enough he had begun to delude himself into thinking he was one.

While she waited Eponine tested out the bed, which she found to be slightly hard and lumpy. Better than her bed at home, of course, but worse than Musichetta's.

Though the room was simple and unadorned, Eponine was pleased to see a small window on the farthest wall. She ran her hand along the edges and pushed it open. The window was facing away from the street so that her only view was the extensive field of the yard. It would be perfect for sneaking out that night.

She hadn't really planned on leaving so soon, but she was becoming anxious from the separation from her family. Knowing things were fine would be enough to settle her stomach until her first day off.

Just as she was mentally planning the escape, the creak of the door alerted Eponine to a stout old woman who held a bundle of clothes in her arms. Her wrinkled face held a permanent frown and her eyes were dull and lackluster, as if all enchantment had long ago left her. Eponine quickly closed the window with guilt, as if the old woman might somehow suspect she was trying to escape, and nodded her head in greeting.

"When Ben said there was a new girl I assumed she'd at least be grown. You're awfully skinny, aren't you," she said with a disaproving lookover.

"I'm Eponine, miss."

"My name is Hilly. I look after all things around here, so if you misbehave in any way I'll be the first to know. I will explain your work, but here- change first." Hilly thrust the pile of clothing into Eponine's arms, and under the woman's scrutinizing gaze she quickly unchanged and slipped her new uniform on over her shift. A dark grayish-blue dress, starched apron, white cap, and black leather shoes. The cap covered her pinned-up hair in a way that felt familiarly comfortable, but the shoes felt strange and unnatural on Eponine's worn feet.

"Now follow me," Hilly said, leaving Eponine to shuffle behind as she adjusted to the shoes. "Lucky for you the dishwashing girl died about a few weeks back, caught some terrible sickness. Fine one moment, dead the next. Good riddance, I say. I never saw a lazier girl, and what a terrible gossip! And now the job of washing dishes goes to you. I hope you're a better worker than she was, but right now I'm not convinced." The woman paused to aim another diapproving glance at Eponine before she continued on her way.

_What a crazy old witch,_ Eponine thought bitterly. Normally she would mouth off to Hilly, but keeping her job was far more important than her pride.

The kitchen was exactly as the rest of the house, spacious and pristine. A few servants were preparing a meal, one was decorating an elaborate cake, and a girl about Eponine's age was scrubbing the floors.

"This is where you'll be working," Hilly said, indicating to a basin of soapy water and the one corner of the kitchen that was not pristine. On the counter next to the basin was a stack of dirty dishes and a few rags for cleaning.

"I expect you know how to wash dishes. If they're not spotless I'll send you to clean the horse stalls," Hilly said with a final sneer before she left Eponine alone.

_Well, better get to work,_ Eponine thought as she picked up the first dish and dunked it under the water. She spent a good five minutes on the first dish, scrubbing it so thoroughly she could see her own refelction in it. After that, though, she took a little less care on each plate as she washed dish after dish after dish. As time went by and more food was prepared the stack grew gradually bigger so that for every dish she washed a new one would appear.

When Eponine had finally finished she had refilled the basin with fresh water three times and her fingers were left raw from scrubbing. The kitchen all of a sudden felt silent and empty, leaving Eponine to realize she was the only one still working. Her mind had left her in the monotonous and tedious work so that she had hardly noticed anyone while she was washing dishes.

She was just leaving when she nearly tripped over someone on the floor. After she caught her balance Eponine looked down to see the girl who had been scrubbing the floor earlier, passed out.

Unsure what was wrong with the girl, Eponine nudged her with her foot a few times before the girl woke with a sudden start.

"What? Where am I?" she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

"You were sleeping," Eponine said, half-amused at the girl sprawled below her. Mousy brown wisps of hair peeked out from the girl's lopsided cap and the corner of her mouth had a trail of drool running down. "Sleeping well from the looks of it."

"Damn it!" the girl whined as she picked herself up and wiped her mouth. "Hilly's gonna kill me if I don't finish this floor!"

"Get to it then," Eponine said as she started to walk away, anxious to leave and find her family. She had spent longer than she thought she would on the dishes and had no time to waste. Just as she was about to step out of the kitchen, though, she looked back and saw the girl slumped defeatedly in the same spot, suddenly reminding her of Azelma and the way she always sat hunched over as if to protect herself from any blows that might come her way. The girl looked utterly helpless and Eponine was sure it wasn't just because of the unclean floor.

With an impatient sigh Eponine returned and got on her knees to scrub the floor.

"What? What are you doing?" the girl asked, still sounding sleepy.

"Aren't you going to help? I'm not going to do all your work for you," Eponine shot back. The girl blinked a few times before smiling and picking up another scrubbing brush to finish the floor.

"I'm Alice, by the way. I haven't you around before. I guess you're new, huh washer girl?"

"It's Eponine, and yeah, I just got here today. That old bat Hilly says I'm the replacement for some girl that died."

"Yeah, Claire was her name," Alice said, going quiet for a moment. Eponine muttered an apology that Alice disregarded.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "A lot of people hated her, y'know, on account of her being a busybody and sleeping around and such. I didn't mind her so much myself, but that's just because she was the best gossip I knew. She eavesdropped on the Beaumonts all the time and she'd tell me everything since we worked so close together most of the time."

Alice paused to look up and shoot a sly smile at Eponine. "You'd be interested to hear some of the secrets about this place."

"Oh?" Eponine said, feigning interest for the talkative girl. In reality she could care less about the Beaumonts other than their payment to her. They were just another priveleged bourgeoise family who would never even have looked at Eponine in her normal state.

Alice glanced around secretly, seeming happy to divulge in all the secrets she knew.

"The Beaumonts are not so rich as they seem," she said in a quiet whisper. "Monsieur Beaumont has lost a lot of money lately. The only thing they got now is their good reputation."

"You're saying they haven't got any money? How will I get paid!" Eponine protested.

"No, no, no, they got money! Enough to keep living and paying their expenses and everything, that is. But the Beaumonts aren't people to just get by, and with all the money Monsieur lost they're desperate, you see. If he doesn't get it back they'll eventually have to move away and we'll all be out on the street!"

"What'll he do?"

"Claire told me the old man has it all worked out. He got his youngest daughter Elise engaged to some rich guy, she said, a marriage of convenience for both the families. They've been engaged forever, though, and still no sign of a wedding."

"There's no date for the wedding?" Eponine asked, still worried for her new job.

"Not that I know of. But what are they waiting for! We would all sleep a little better with more money again, the Beaumonts especially," Alice explained with a frustrated slump.

"The man must have some sort of objection. Maybe there's something wrong with Elise?" Eponine barely knew her, but she _had_ been nice enough to give her a job.

"That's what we all wonder. She's a pretty girl and not so dreadful like some bourgeois are. The worst I've heard of her is that she's a little dull, but that's never bothered any man I knew. Men don't like girls smarter than them and there's no chance of that with Elise. It's probably why Claire was always so popular with men," Alice said with a smirk. She looked up at Eponine for a moment and cocked her head. "Do I seem dumb to you?"

"A little," Eponine admitted. "You _did _fall asleep in the middle of working." As an afterthought Eponine shrugged apologetically.

"It's alright, I know I'm dumb. Lazy too. I can't read or write or do anything really. I can't even scrub the floors right and that's about the easiest thing to do around here. Hilly made me do the dishes once but I broke so many I got reassigned to floor scrubbing." Alice laughed to herself, seemingly carefree, but the dark circles under her eyes and twichy movements told another story. "But that doesn't matter to me. What would I need smarts for anyways?"

Eponine looked at Alice but decided not to say anything. The girl seemed content with her disillusionment.

"Can you read?" Alice inquired suddenly.

"Yes, a little," Eponine said, a shameless lie. She was basically illiterate.

"You must be smart then. Tell me, do you have a lover?"

Eponine considered exaggerating the story of Enjolras saving her to take the form of a romantic story of her lover, but she decided against it. It wasn't worth it lying to herself or the girl scrubbing floors. "No."

"See, it is because you are smart! Men like dumb girls. That's why Henry has had his eyes on me for awhile," Alice said with a proud smirk. She continued bragging when she got no reaction from Eponine. "He's the handsomest stable boy in all of France. Hilly made me clean the stables once when I broke 5 dishes in a day and I swear he was staring at me. It's only a matter of time before he confesses his love to me."

Eponine said nothing but decided that aside from appearance Alice and Azelma could be twins.

"So being smart gets you nowhere," Alice continued, contemptful of Eponine's indifference. "You can be smart as you want and you're still stuck here as a dish washer for people you're not fit to lick the shoe of."

With nothing left to say silence fell between the two as they finished scrubbing the remainder of the floor.

"Okay, we're done. We can leave now," Eponine said, standing up and rubbing her sore back.

"I don't know why Hilly bothers making me scrub the floors every day when they're just going to get dirty again anyways. I'd like to see that witch bend down and do it herself every once in a while. You know, I hear she'll be the first to go if they start dismissing us. She's too old and cranky to be useful any more and even she knows it," Alice complained as she wiped her hands on her apron. "But anyways, thanks for helping. I'm glad there's someone around here now who's not a total bore."

"Try not to fall asleep again tomorrow," Eponine said with a forced half-smile. Her and Alice walked quietly down to the servants quarters together, where they parted ways in to their respective bedrooms. Eponine quickly removed her cap, apron, and shoes once she was inside. As an afterthought she unpinned her wild hair before opening the window and jumping out as silently as possible.

* * *

The Gorbeau House was farther than she had initially thought and it took her the better half of an hour to finally reach the familiarly ramshackle house. The disaster of a building loomed over her like a nightmare, one that she had avoided for nearly three weeks. With a hard swallow she entered and scaled the stairs.

Enjolras's door was the one her eyes were immediately drawn to with a sad longing. Without thinking she pressed her ear to the door and listened for any sound in the completely silent room. Him and Marius were probably sleeping, Eponine realized with irrepressible disapointment. _It is better this way if I am to never see him again_, she thought. But being so close to the student again made her miss his face even more.

She reluctantly tore herself away and slipped in to her own room. She could see her mother's shape in bed and even her father was asleep at the late hour but Azelma was nowhere to be seen. Eponine rushed to their bed and felt in the dark for her sister only to find nothing. It wasn't like Azelma to be out of the house at night.

With panic rising in her Eponine dared to shake her father awake. He grumbled incoherently before looking up at Eponine. He looked only slightly surprised for a moment before settling in to a frown.

"Look who decided to come back," he scoffed before rolling over again to sleep.

"Papa, listen to me!" He reluactantly turned around and glared at his daughter impatiently.

"What? This had better be important."

"Where's Azelma? She's not here," Eponine said, sounding more frantic than she intended. She was already on edge from her sister missing and her father always made her even more so.

"Uh.. I saw her yesterday," he answered. Eponine got to her knees beside the cot and desperately clutched her father's wrist.

"Where is she?" she asked again. He yanked his wrist away and shoved Eponine back.

"Probably at some brothel," he growled as he settled back in to bed. "Your sister's a whore."

Eponine sat back on her heels, stunned. "What?"

"You heard me: she's a whore! A terrible one at that. She's probably worth more dead than alive."

"You're selling Azelma out for money! Your own daughter!" Eponine exclaimed angrily. "I thought even you wouldn't stoop so low!"

"It's all your doing, girl," Thenardier said with a wicked grin. "She wouldn't have had to whore around if you hadn't been lazung around all this time." Eponine felt the enormous weight of guilt followed by a rush of anger.

"Is she making enough for you to drink? Because that's all that matters, isn't it!" Eponine yelled, failing to keep her voice low.

Thenardier responded with a devilish grin. "You know it's your fault, you selfish girl. You drove your own sister to become a prostitute so you could be a bourgeoise's whore! Don't think I couldn't guess, with that boy coming here every night."

"What?"

"You know the one. Came here just yesterday telling us how good you were doing," Thenardier said. "I hope he pays well."

"You bastard!" Eponine shouted, bristling with fury. "As much as it may disapoint you, I'm not a whore! And I got a job now, a real honest job unlike any you've ever had."

"Really? Good pay?" Thenardier asked with a eager grin.

"I won't be living here any more, Papa," Eponine said, trying to contain her lividness.

"What will I do without you, 'Ponine?" her father objected. "Azelma is an awful lookout. We haven't had a good job in weeks."

Eponine looked away and gritted her teeth. "I'll send money when I can," she said.

Her father turned away, obviously conflicted. Allowing her to leave would give the family a steady wage to live on while doing jobs on the side. On the other hand, Eponine was strong-willed and would be impossible to control once she was gone. And it would be a blow to the Patron-Minette to lose her skills.

"Fine. Go," Thenardier conceded. "But if we don't get that money one of my men will find where you work, and we both know that won't be pretty."

"The money can't all go to you, I have other debts to pay," Eponine objected.

"What debt could be more important than me?" With a look from Eponine he added, "And your sister, think of your poor sister. If you want her to stop being a whore you'll send us that money."

"Alright, I'll do it. For Azelma," Eponine said. Without another word she turned from the heartless man and fled the building for the new sanctuary of the Beaumont home. As much as she hoped she'd never see her father again, she knew it was inevitable. He wasn't the kind of man to let things go.

* * *

In the room next door Enjolras was lying awake just as the noise had settled down into the typical lull. He had admittedly not slept at all yet that night, or many other nights for that matter. Late nights studying and planning a course of action had deprived him of what little sleep he got before. It was just another thing he had been forgetting to do lately. Eating was another, and bathing.

There was too much left to be done to waste time on sleeping or eating. Enjolras could not afford any more distractions at such a critical time.

So it was not unusual that that night he had been sleeplessly lying in bed as his mind mulled over a thousand different things. The revolution, his studies, his family, his financial struggles..

What did not cross his mind was the Jondrette family, until they were the very cause of his start from bed. Marius continued to sleep soundly, snoring zealously as he always did, while Enjolras had no choice but to tune in to the conversation. And with the walls being as thin as they were, he could hear everything.

He had tried his best to sever all emotional ties he had to the Jondrette girl other than his obligation to see to it that she regained her health. He had done so by asking Joly to get news of Eponine's health through Musichetta and then he would occasionally report it to Monsieur Jondrette. When he had heard tonight that Eponine had left the Cafe Musain that day for good he was relieved in more ways than one. Relieved that she was well again and her life was no longer on his conscience, but also relieved that he could move on from the whole ordeal and continue his work with no distractions, as small as they may be.

And from what he gathered tonight from the screaming match she had with her father, she had a new job and was leaving her family. _Good_, Enjolras thought. _We will both benefit from this arrangement._

He turned on his side and turned his thoughts back to more important matters, but his overworked body had had enough as he reluctantly gave in to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

"You look terrible today, Eponine," Alice observed as she was scrubbing the counter next to Eponine. "One day and you're already beat tired of this place."

"I'm fine. Bad sleep," Eponine said without looking up from the dish she was washing.

In truth she had hardly slept at all that night. After she had left her father she had gone on a futile search for Azelma only to come up with nothing. Her sister could be anywhere in Paris, including, Eponine realized with a sickened stomach, some man's bed. By the time she returned to the Beaumont estate there was little time left to sleep, not that Eponine would have been able to anyways.

"What's the matter? These beds ain't good enough for a princess like you?"

"I just told you I had a bad sleep," Eponine spat. She didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not Alice. The gawky girl had somehow worked it in to her head that Eponine thought she was better than her and had been shooting dirty looks at her all day, and yet Alice was still the closest thing Eponine had to a friend in her new home.

"Someone's a bit touchy," Alice pouted. "I guess you don't want to hear the news I've just had this morning."

"I'm sure you'll tell me anyways," Eponine sighed.

Alice looked around the room before lowering herself closer to Eponine. "I've just heard the serving girl Sophie was fired this morning. The homely thing dropped a dish at breakfast and it landed right all over everything! Madame Beaumont was so upset at the tablecloth being ruined she threw her out immediately."

"And?"

"And? What do you mean 'and'?" Alice gawked. "Can't you see what this means!"

"Sure. The girl was fired just for dropping a dish," Eponine said. "We can't be making any mistakes then."

Alice blinked a few times with confusion. "Well, yes, but that's not it! It means there's a new spot as serving girl open!"

"And that's good?" Eponine asked. Alice stared at her as if the answer was obvious.

"Really, and you think you're smart? Of course it's good!" she sneered. "Serving the Beaumonts is the best job in the house."

"Why would I want to serve such spoiled rich people if I'll be thrown out for dropping a dish?" Eponine said, furiously scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a dish.

"You get better pay for less work, plus you get to go out to the market sometimes! And the Beaumonts want to impress their guests with well-dressed servants, too, so your clothes would be much nicer! Now aren't you glad Sophie's gone?" said Alice.

"That does sound nice, doesn't it," Eponine said wistfully. She would certainly accept the postion in a heartbeat. She needed as much pay as she could get, and the freedom to move around Paris would be a relief in comparison to her current cramped working environment.

She wasn't used to being confined all day. She usually spent as much time outside as possible, mostly to avoid being at home but also because she liked watching Paris.

_Who knows when I'll go outside next_, she thought grimly.

"I say good riddance to Sophia. I couldn't stand her fat ugly face anways," Alice muttered to herself. "That job should have been mine ages ago. I been here since I was 10 years old and not even once has the family noticed me."

"So what makes you think you'll be chosen? If they haven't noticed you all these years, that is," Eponine said. Based on Alice's glare she immediately regretted it.

"Well I know for sure you won't be chosen," Alice huffed.

In an attempt to lighten the mood Eponine smiled and said, "Perhaps that old bat Hilly will be chosen. Imagine her wrinkly hands spilling soup all over the Madame."

Alice snorted and grinned reluctantly. "I think that witch is much more likely to die than be promoted."

Eponine playfully splashed dish water at Alice and chuckled. "We mustn't speak ill of our betters," she said jokingly.

Just at that moment Hilly waddled in to kitchen and glanced around with her usual dissatified glare.

"Back to work, you two!" she crowed at Eponine and Alice, who were barely concealing their laughter.

_Perhaps I have made a friend after all_, Eponine thought as she watched Alice get back on her knees to scrub the floor. A nosy, dumb, obnoxious, jealous, lazy friend, but still a friend.

* * *

The Beaumonts were all seated at the long dining table in anticipation of their dinner. Monsieur Beaumont, a large man with an equally large nose, was seated at the head of the table with his wife on the other side, a thin woman whose eyes roamed with dissatisfaction. Three of their five children were currently seated at the table with them, Elise and her two younger brothers Claude and Martin. The eldest Beaumont child, Marie-Augustine, lived with her husband in Normandie while her brother Jacques was away studying business.

At seventeen Elise was fragile like her mother, though her pink cheeks were still round from leftover baby fat. Her blonde-brown hair was soft and shiny and she wore it in a swept-up style so that not a hair was out of place. Though Elise wasn't the famous beauty that her sister was, her features were unmistakably pretty. She had gray eyes rimmed with long dark lashes, a straight nose, and a small timid mouth.

Claude and Martin were 12 and 9 respectively and had fine gold hair and blue eyes like their mother. As they were waiting for their dinner to be served they were playing with their silverware, which was met with the Madame's disapproving glare.

"Mother," Elise interrupted the staring match, "who will serve us now that you've fired Sophie?"

"We have other servants. Get Ben to take care of it," Madame Beaumont said impatient woman sat her back straight, chin up, and hands folded in her lap, a position Elise carefully mimicked at meal times.

At mention of his name Benjamin, who had been standing in attendance off to the side of the room, came to stand by the table.

"I'm hungry!" Martin complained to the manservant, earning him another dirty look from his mother.

"Dinner will be served shortly," Ben replied patiently.

"Ben, perhaps you should make the new girl our server for tonight, the one we met in the street yesterday. What was her name again?" Elise suggested.

"Miss Eponine?"

"Ah yes, I remember. After the story, of course. I believe she'll do well to serve us," Elise said with a smile.

"Very well, mademoiselle," Ben replied before pacing off to the kitchen. The kitchen was always busiest when in preparation for dinner. A flurry of activity passed as the servants hustled about to prepare the meal. And among all the bustle Eponine was silently standing in the back of the kitchen by herself, methodically washing the dishes.

"Miss Eponine, you've been called to serve the Beaumonts tonight," Ben spoke.

Eponine turned and looked around, unsure if he was speaking to her despite his direct adressal. "Um- Me, sir?"

"Yes," he answered impatiently. "You will be bringing them their dinner now." Eponine wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward hesitantly, as if she still wasn't sure Ben was serious.

Hilly, who had been standing by to supervise the kitchen activities, stepped over and removed Eponine's filthy apron. In its place Eponine donned a brisk white apron with frills on the straps. As she tied the apron her own stomach was in knots. If she made a mistake tonight she'd be back at the Gorbeau house, no doubt.

The chef handed her a tray loaded with bowls and dishes before sending her out the door. Eponine's heart thudded in her chest. She had always walked with flighty step, but now more than ever she flitted across the floor as if at any moment she might be bombarded and made to drop the tray.

She appeared at the table and set a dish in front of each of the waiting Beaumonts. She was relieved to see that their eyes were locked on the food and not on her, and so with slightly more confidence she returned to the kitchen with the empty tray in hand.

"You are not elegant," Ben observed as she set the tray on the counter. "If you will not be graceful you can at least stand up straight and curtsy to the Beaumont family."

"Oh... my mistake," Eponine said.

"Of course it is. You must improve if you wish to keep your job, you know," Ben said coldly. "Now let me see you perform your duties in a satisfactory manner or you will be reassigned."

Eponine worked hard to improve her stance and presence that night, but habits formed over 8 years die hard. Her attempt at grace was possibly more awkward than her usual self. Eponine's gangly limbs might have been conceived as a lean figure of poise and grace had she been born under different circumstances, but her upbringing had not allowed for it.

If any of the Beaumonts noticed her trepidation, however, they said nothing. They were more invested in their own meals than watching a servant tripping over herself.

When the meal was over Eponine cleared the dishes and returned to the kitchen, expecting a shift of washing the newly dirtied dishes. Instead she found Alice bent over the wash tub, cleaning a plate with an entire stack waiting beside her.

"Alice, you don't have to do my job," Eponine said. Alice looked up and her expression drooped into a frown at the sight of Eponine.

"I'm not doing this because I want to. If I wanted anything it was to serve the Beaumonts," Alice said grudgingly. "I've been here nearly half my life as a scullery maid but the moment you walk in they promote you! It's just not fair you know!"

"Don't be mad at me, I didn't choose it," Eponine said.

"Tell Ben that I should be serving! Tell him how I have more experience!" Alice begged. She had stopped working and was now facing Eponine.

"No! It's the first time in my life I'm finally catching a break and I'm not going to throw it away for you," Eponine said.

"You're the most selfish person I've ever met!" Alice spat. Eponine paused. She was selfish, she knew that. But no one had ever done anything for her, so why would she do anything for someone else?

_That's not true,_ Eponine thought. _Enjolras saved my life for nothing in return._

And though she had paid him back by returning his jacket and stolen money, she had done this out of her own selfish desire to impress the student. But now she had taken the job in order to support her family, right? So her intentions couldn't be entirely selfish.

"I have a family to feed," Eponine said in way of apology. "This job is all we have."

"Hey, new girl! Come get dinner," the chef called. Eponine turned her back on Alice and scampered to the setting of leftover food laid out. She may have walked out on a potential friend, but Eponine had lived her whole life without friends and found being alone wasn't hard.

She didn't mind being alone most of the time, and sometimes she even enjoyed it. Being lonely, however, was an entirely different story. And even though she was in a kitchen surrounded by the various other servants, it was the loneliest she had felt in months.

* * *

Gavroche had been almost entirely self sufficient since he could walk, which was just the way he liked it. He made his home in the hollowed quarters of the rotting Elephant of Bastille, snatched food and money when he needed it, and was even seen as a leader among the other street kids. He had nothing to his name and yet he had everything he needed.

Most everyone assumed he was an orphan, which wasn't completely inaccurate because as far as Gavroche was concerned he had no family. He knew his sisters were in Paris living with his parents and that at one time he had had two younger brothers also, though he had no idea where they were now. But now they were all just faces in the back of his memory, or occasionally faces he saw go by on the street.

Gavroche was heading down the street confidently, his hands thrust in his pockets and his buck teeth forming a small grin. A drunk looking man in disheveled clothing was stumbling down the street, an easy target. With practiced step and nimble fingers Gavroche fished his hand in to the man's pocket, only to find that it was disappointingly empty.

He started to walk away when he noticed the face of the man he had just tried to steal from.

"Grantaire!" he said with a grin. The drunk man looked up and cognizance passed through his dulled eyes.

"Gavroche, you little rascal!" he guffawed, putting an arm around the boy as he continued to stumble along. "I believe you- you just tried to steal from me!"

"You noticed? Perhaps you're not as drunk as I thought," Gavroche said with a cheeky grin. "What are you doing this drunk in the middle of the day?"

"I'm going to a meeting of course," Grantaire slurred. "At the Cafe Musain."

"So?"

Grantaire bent down and ruffled Gavroche's curly hair. "Well- well, how could I survive it all sober? Enjolras will make one of his big speeches, Combeferre will say some wise bit.. it's always the same."

"You don't have to go, you know. You could do anything you like," Gavroche piped up.

"Anything I like?" Grantaire repeated, his drunk mind slow to process. "But maybe this is what I like." Grantaire laughed raucously which turned in to a coughing fit, followed by a swig of wine. He offered a drink to Gavroche, who took a few gulps and wiped his mouth.

"Can I come then? Sometimes Enjolras lets me sit in."

"Yes, of course," Grantaire said with a sweeping arm gesture. "In the new republic we will all be able to do as we like. The poor can have as much maggoty bread as they'd like, the rich can buy as much clothes as they like, and fools like me can drink as much as we like! It's the whole point of this revolution, you see."

"You really are strange when you're drunk," Gavroche teased.

"I'm always drunk," Grantaire said with another drink.

"And you're always strange!" Gavroche said. Truthfully he was just happy to be included in the Friends of the ABC. Going to the meetings began as a way to fight off boredom, but over time Gavroche was genuinely listening to the republicans. At least, he listened more than Grantaire ever did.

The two arrived to a full room in the Cafe Musain. Gavroche recognized most of the men: Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Lesgle, Feuilly, and Jehan. Enjolras was there, too, of course, but he did not look up or make any notice when Gavroche and Grantaire arrived.

"Hello everybody! I haven't been here in ages, have I? Anything much happen while I been gone? Nothing's new with me, thanks for asking," Gavroche announced to little response. Him and Grantaire sat- or in Grantaire's case, collapsed- at their own separate table.

The conversation in the cafe continued with many of the students speculating on the recent outbreak of illness, the symptoms being high fever, weakness, and coughing. It infected the poor the worst, as the cold weather, malnutrition, and poor hygiene led them to succumb to the illness. Enjolras suspected it was the same illness Eponine had contracted and realized what a miracle it was she survived when so many others perished.

"Winter is nearly upon us, Combeferre. Without shelter or warm clothes the poor will be more vulnerable than ever. Is this not the appropriate time to act? How long can we put off a course of action when every second that goes by people are dying in the streets while we sit here in comfort!" Enjolras said.

"You must realize it is too soon. If we act before we or Paris are properly prepared for a revolution, all will be lost and our efforts will have been for nothing. Our lives will have been for nothing," Combeferre spoke calmly. Enjolras sighed. He knew Combeferre was right and that the friends of the ABC were in no way prepared for a revolution, but he was still weighed down with guilt for further delay of action.

"How can we know when it is the right time? It doesn't seem as if things can get any worse than they are right now."

"Patience is key, my friend. The time will come when Paris is crying for deliverance," Combeferre said.

"Very well. We wait for a sign before we strike. We have many preparations to make until then. We need to gather supplies, collaborate with the other reformers, spread the word of revolution, offer support to the poor.."

"All in due time. Do not overwork yourself, Enjolras. You study all day and spend all your nights here. I wonder how you have time for anything else. One man cannot change an entire country, you know, especially not a man as sleep deprived as yourself," Combeferre said with genuine concern for his friend.

"I assure you I'm fine. I sleep well enough," Enjolras said. The dark circles beneath his eyes told a different story.

"I'm not sure Enjolras has been sleeping," Courfeyrac said, cutting in to the conversation with a mischevious smile. "I hear he has a mistress now. Surely it can't be true, with a disagreeable face such as his." Laughter was heard around the room at Courfeyrac's gentle teasing.

"That's absurd," Enjolras said tiresomely. "Unless you speak of Patria I have no mistress, nor do I intend to have one."

"This is not what Joly tells me," Lesgle chuckled at Enjolras's discomfort.

"Whatever nonsense Joly has made up it does not matter. We have more important things to be concerned about," Enjolras refuted.

"So you mean to say you have no connection whatsoever to that girl?" Joly prodded.

"What girl?"

"You have met this mysterious mistress, Joly?"

"There is no mistress. Joly and Mademoiselle Musichetta assisted a young woman whom I am aquainted with when she fell ill. There is nothing else to the story," Enjolras said.

"I did not know Enjolras was even aware of women!" Feuilly remarked.

"The obsession that all of you have over women is quite tiresome. If you all mean to take this revolution seriously you must show me that you take yourselves seriously. There will be no more talk of women or mistresses at our meetings out of respect for the republic. What you do in your own time is none of my concern, but while we are here we fight for liberty and liberty only," Enjolras said. The laughter and inquiries stopped but the friends' curiosity was not stemmed.

At that moment Marius opened the door to the upstairs room only to receive the stares of all of the members.

"Marius, you're late," Enjolras noted impatiently. Marius walked towards the group sheepishly. "Where have you been?"

"I was preoccupied," he answered. "Sorry."

"This is the third time you've been late to a meeting this past month, that is, when you bother to show up. We all have our personal troubles we must deal with, and yet you are the only one who is late. Why is this?" Enjolras looked around the room, noticing the stares of others, and said, "Meeting adjourned."

"Wake up Grantaire! The meeting's over!" Gavroche said to the dozing drunk as the rest of the group disassembled.

"That's impossible!" Grantaire slurred as he woke with a start. "We just got here. I haven't even finished my drink."

"We've been here for ages already! You fell asleep not two minutes after we got here! It's no wonder Enjolras is so contemptful of you," Gavroche remarked with his arms crossed.

"What's the point of being awake for these things anyways," Grantaire said as he tried to stand with assistance from Gavroche. "S'not like we can change anything."

"Sure you can, Grantaire. If you guys don't stand up for the poor, who will?"

"You've been listening to Enjolras, haven't you?" Grantaire laughed, taking another drink as he stumbled out the door with Gavroche.

On the other end of the room Enjolras was packing up his things with Marius waiting by his side.

"Enjolras, I really am sorry. I had other things to do today," Marius said. Enjolras gathered all his things and looked at Marius thoughtfully.

"Walk with me, Marius," he said, a suggestion that was more of a command. Marius did as he was told and followed Marius as they left the building and began the long walk back to the Gorbeau house.

After a prolonged silence, Enjolras said, "Tell me your opinion, Marius. Do you think I am rushing this revolution?"

Marius looked at Enjolras, who was gazing ahead with a somber expression. It was not a question he had expected. "Perhaps. No- I don't know."

"Combeferre has told me so. I trust his judgement," Enjolras said. After another moment's thought he continued. "Honestly speaking, not long ago I believed we could use our own hands to change this country and create beautiful futures. It wasn't much later that I realized my naivety."

Enjolras paused and furrowed his brow. "Recently a young boy died alone," he said. "He could not get any food while he was in the care of his adopted family after his parents died. So he ate the earth in the walls and died."

Marius looked at Enjolras and noticed the barely detectable anguish set in his stony face.

"When I was that boy's age I was never hungry a day in my life. I was spoiled with a full stomach and lots of sweets. You would think, 'What is the difference between that boy and I?' I was born in to a wealthy family by coincidence, while that boy was born in to a poor family by coincidence. That is the only difference."

Enjolras turned to Marius for the first time and met his eyes. "Yet that boy died and I lived on. His life cannot be saved no matter what we do. However, if we could change the society we might be able to save the lives which would be lost tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. This is why we meet. We must be the change we want to see, do you understand?"

Marius nodded. "I know what you mean. I've just been busy with things." Enjolras said nothing and so Marius continued, letting his troubles spill out. "When I'm not studying I work part time translating. It's tiresome and tedious and I make barely enough to eat. I've borrowed more money than I can ever pay back at this point, and worst of all my grandfather knows of my failures. I've never been poor; I don't know how to be poor!"

"Your troubles are nothing in comparison to those we try to help. You have a home, friends, a meal a day, and the means for education. Most of the poor would be grateful for any one of those things. Do not waste time feeling sorry for yourself."

Marius frowned. It was not the response he had hoped for.

"Because you seem so unaware, just consider our neighbors. Their room is smaller than our's though they have double the occupants. They are forced to beg for just the simplest means to survive. They have nothing but rags to wear even on the coldest day. A piece of burnt bread is a blessing to them. The Jondrettes are living such harsh lives and suffering so greatly just next door to us," Enjolras said. Marius flushed with guilt.

"To speak honestly I have not thought about them once since that day we moved in. Isn't there anything we can do for them?"

"Yes, and for all the country," Enjolras said, returning his gaze to meet Marius's. "A new France will rise up from the ashes of the old one."


	15. Chapter 15

Marius woke the next morning before Enjolras or the sun had risen. He intended to roll over and go back to sleep but instead found himself standing up and lighting a candle at the desk where his translation papers waited.

His tired eyes almost automatically moved over the text as he began the tedious job. He admittedly did not know any English, and so he had to use a cumbersome dictionary for the work. It was a slow and laborous process, and even worse the pay was next to nothing.

Lately it had been hard for Marius to justify his decision to move out of his grandfather's home and make his own way in the world. As he had told Enjolras, he had no idea how to be poor and was overwhelmed with stress and worry most of his waking hours. He even missed stubborn old Gillenormand time from time, but Marius's own stubborness prevented him from attempting to make any amends. Returning to his grandfather would be an admission that he was wrong- that his father was wrong- and Marius could never betray his late father in such a way.

Although he was sore to admit it to Enjolras, Marius was even questioning his position in the Friends of the ABC. He had only really joined because his friend Courfeyrac had led him to do so, but he had trouble finding the same passion that the other men had for the cause. He was sorry for the poor, of course, but was he willing to die for them?

Marius's pen stalled as his thoughts wandered to the Jondrettes, who lived just on the other side of the wall his desk was against. He had admittedly thought nothing of the harsh lives they lived mere feet from him until Enjolras had reminded him the night before.

_Does this make me a bad person, to be so selfishly unaware of the suffering of others?_ he thought to himself as he stared at the wall, almost as if he could see in to the lives of his neighbors. The Jondrette girl who had come by that first day had really seemed such a tragic thing. She was repelling in sight and smell but moved about with such self-assuredness, an attempt at grace that was really just pathetic.

He recalled her face, which was etched in vaguely pretty features concealed by layers of dirt and grime. Within the girl's haunting black eyes was a deep sadness poorly hidden by her masquerade of liveliness. Her being gave off the sense that she had been alive a hundred years so that her youthful face seemed an odd combination of both woman and child, a mixture of 15 and 50.

Marius had forgotten her so easily and yet she haunted his memory now. He held an odd combination of pity and disgust for the strange girl who had emerged like a nightmare, a shadowed being who had flitted around that very room before vanishing.

He had given her two francs, he remembered that clearly. Two francs that she rejoiced over, two francs she claimed would bring food to her family who had not eaten in three days. It also meant two fewer francs in his already sparse pocket.

Marius had done his bit of good for the Jondrettes, and yet he couldn't dispel his sense of guilt for his ignorance. Where was the girl now? Was the family in any better condition than before? Perhaps later he would check on their residence, and if he was paid well for his translating he might even be able to spare a sous or two.

_It is naive to think that we can exonerate all of France by our own hands. Rather, we must go to the root of the problem so that we can create a better future in which these problems do not exist. Help those you can, but remember that sacrifices must be made for the good of the majority._

Marius recalled one of Enjolras's speeches from a meeting he had attended a while back. The Jondrette family was but one of thousands who were suffering all across France. He knew it was impossible to be able to help everyone, but perhaps helping this one girl would be difference enough.

Just as the sun threatened to rise over the horizon Marius packed up all his things and left in a hurry. His mood was brightened by his odd epiphany and he felt more at peace than he had been in months. He somehow felt that today was the start of a new chapter of his life.

_Who knows what this day might bring?_ Marius thought. His life had begun to take on meaning again as he realized what he must do. He would become newly committed to the ABC's cause and apply himself to liberating France, just as Enjolras had hoped he would.

Besides, he had nothing to his name and nothing but his life to lose.

* * *

Eponine woke with the sun, a luxury compared to her early awakening the day before. Hilly had barreled in to her room and demanded she wake to begin the household chores of the day. In the blackened sky of early morning Eponine had fetched and heated water, a laborious chore worsened by her already exhausted state from her late night rendezvous.

This morning Eponine took her time to rise out of bed and stretch her stiff muscles before she began her preparations for the day. After making the bed she looked at the new stack of clothes awaiting her on her dresser.

With some sense of caution she slipped in to her new dress. It was of midnight black fabric and plain material, although the fit was better than her last assigned uniform. After struggling over a column of buttons on her back, Eponine tied her new frilled apron on.

Eponine was slightly dismayed to see that a cap was no longer part of her uniform. The hair pins that Musichetta had given her were like foreign objects and impossible to figure out, ruling out the option of pinning her hair as it had been two days earlier. She settled on using a scrap of material ripped from her old skirt to tie her hair back in to a low pony tail, not nearly as neat looking as pinned hair but still maintaining a more tame hairstyle.

Still wary of the fact that Hilly had not demanded anything of her yet that morning, Eponine left her room and headed to the kitchen where she would most likely be serving breakfast in some time. There were surprisingly few people in the kitchen at the early hour, and those who were were already working on the Beaumonts' breakfast. Eponine was relieved to see Alice was conspicuously missing from kitchen duty that morning. Though she knew she couldn't avoid Alice forever, she would prefer to keep her distance from the girl.

Eponine did not know what to do with herself in the kitchen, and so with nothing else to do she started washing the small stack of dishes to the side of the wash basin. She was only working a minute when Hilly came in.

"What are you doing?"

"I didn't know what else to do," Eponine said, stepping away from the basin.

"It's your day off, girl. You can do anything you want today for all I care," Hilly said.

"But it's only been three days," Eponine said. She had been promised a day off after a week.

"You get a day off every week. This is the day," Hilly said impatiently. She inspected the cooking before leaving to stick her nose somewhere else.

Eponine considered leaving at that moment but decided a change of clothes was in order. She didn't want to go out on the streets looking like a maid. Down in her room she wavered between Musichetta's yellow frock and her own familiar clothes.

_I want to look like myself today_, Eponine thought as she decided on her own clothes, though she did keep her hair tied back. As much as she had liked looking like a working class girl lately, her own outfit allowed her ease of transport through the city as it rendered her nearly invisible among the low class citizens.

* * *

Eponine had intended to go home immediately but instead found herself wandering the streets. She had missed the feeling of aimless strolling. Some people found it taxing to walk with no destination in mind, but it always relaxed Eponine to simply see where her feet took her.

Today by chance she ended up outside the church where she spotted a small gathering. Once closer she realized it was a gathering of poverty-stricken people, mostly children, waiting for the bread that was being handed out.

_Gee, these people really are desperate,_ Eponine thought sadly. It was one reason she had never accepted the bread given away at the handouts; she knew that no matter how bad things got with her there were always people who had it worse.

Just as she was eyeing the crowd one face stuck out in particular, causing Eponine's face to flush and stomach drop. _Cosette_, who was looking as lovely as she remembered, Eponine noted spitefully. She had really hoped that she would never have to see the girl again for the sake of the bad memories and jealousy Cosette stirred within her, but now the girl was practically flaunting herself right in front of Eponine.

I should walk away now. I should never look at Cosette again, Eponine thought. But her thoughts and actions were two different things, and when Eponine saw Cosette drift apart from the crowd she pursued her until she was face to face with Cosette.

The girl started at first to see Eponine right in front of her so suddenly but then reached into the basket she was holding to pull out a loaf of bread to offer to Eponine, who did not even look at the loaf.

_Here you are face-to-face with the enemy you haven't spoken to in eight years, and yet you have nothing to say. But then again, neither does she. Perhaps she is so tortured by her memories of Montfermeil,_ Eponine thought, somewhat satisfied to think Cosette still felt anguish for her childhood torture. Whatever Cosette had experienced briefly when she was younger was nothing in comparison to the horror Eponine had been through, and if Cosette even felt still the slightest discomfort it relieved Eponine.

But still, nothing was said, and for a while they stood there looking at each other, Eponine's face dark and grim and Cosette's searching. The girl seemed familiar to Cosette but she couldn't place how she knew her.

"Do you want some bread?" Cosette offered Eponine again. Eponine looked at it for a moment before fixing her dark gaze on Cosette again, who by now was unnerved by the girl's strange behavior and familiar looks.

"You really don't know me?" Eponine narrowed her eyes and her voice chilled Cosette's insides.

"I don't think so," Cosette admitted.

Eponine bit her lip and looked away in to the street, almost as if she planned to leave, but instead she looked back at Cosette.

"Do you need help? Who are you?" Cosette braved.

"I am nobody," Eponine replied fiercely.

"I don't mean to upset you. What is your name?" Cosette asked softly.

_All this time I have thought of you, hating you, and you don't even remember me._

"It has only been eight years and you already forget," Eponine whispered bitterly. Cosette looked confused for a moment before clarity passed through her face.

"Eponine?" Cosette let out a little gasp and put her hand to her lips.

Eponine made no reply but flinched slightly at her name.

"Am I right? You're Eponine, right?"

A long period of silence filled with palpable tension surrounded them.

"If I am Eponine, then what do you want to say to me? You want to complain about the past? You want to conceitedly say 'I'm a rich lady now, and yet you're a poor girl. Aren't you jealous?' " Eponine accused bitingly.

Cosette looked down, reminding Eponine of how she used to look when her mother punished the girl. This innocent look only served to fuel her anger even more.

"How happy you must be to see me now, a waif you can step all over with your fancy new shoes. You want to tell me how terrible I am and that I deserve everything bad, don't you!" Cosette said nothing. "Well, don't you!"

"No!"

"Then what do you want to say?!"

"I don't really have anything to say..." Cosette paused but still didn't meet Eponine's eyes. "The painful experiences I had back then.. the scary times.. the sad times.. I originally wanted to forget all of them. But I can't."

"You forgot me easily enough," Eponine said. "But I never forgot you, ever. Not even for one moment."

"I tried to forget and the pain is gone now. But I still remember," Cosette explained. Eponine had calmed down a little but still looked at Cosette with disdain.

"About the past.. Despite the cruelty you faced, you were still always composed and cheerful."

"I wasn't composed at all!" Cosette protested. "I only continued knowing that Mother would come back for me."

"That's the thing I hated about you!" Eponine spat, her fury ignited again. She continued harshly, "My mother was always in front of me, yet it seemed that your mother who was far away was more concerned about you. That is why I've always hated you! I wore beautiful clothes and ate proper meals. I enrolled in school and played games. I was always better than you, who was starving all the time. I was supposed to be happier than you. Yet I couldn't feel happy at all! That's why I bullied you. But... the more I bullied, the more miserable I felt!"

Eponine quickly turned around to hide the hot tears that spilled on to her face. "Therefore, I couldn't forgive you."

"I couldn't forgive you, too. Not even now," Cosette admitted quietly.

"I don't want your forgiveness," Eponine said before running across the street without another glance at Cosette.

"Eponine!" Cosette called after her and attempted to follow her before a carriage passed in her way. Eponine ran blindly, the tears burning at her eyes and her feet flying.

Cosette still hated her just as much as much as Eponine hated herself at the moment.

Eponine suddenly crashed in to a man and fell to her feet. She really didn't feel like getting up ever again, but she took the hand that was offered down to her without looking and pulled herself up, clinging to the man for balance.

"Monsieur Marius," Eponine said, noticing the student in front of her and quickly wiping her eyes. She had not seen him since that day she had stalked him and Enjolras but he was mostly unchanged. However, he did not look at her. His eyes were fixed on something across the street.

Eponine turned to see what Marius was looking at. Cosette was standing across the street, posed with her basket of bread in hand and her blue eyes fixed to Marius's as well. A moment transpired in which the two simply gazed at each other before their stare was broken by a series of carriages.

"Monsieur, is this girl bothering you?" A policeman asked Marius, breaking his spell. Marius looked to Eponine, who had quickly let go of his shirt under the cop's stare, as if he was noticing her for the first time.

"No, sir," Marius said before craning his neck to try to look back where Cosette had been standing. Between the carriages that rolled by and the crowd of people Cosette was nowhere to be found.

"That girl," Marius breathed. He turned to Eponine and grabbed her shoulders. "Where did she go?"

"She left with her father," Eponine said, taking advantage of Marius's inattention to wipe her eyes of her last bitter tears.

"Who was that girl?" Marius asked, although Eponine wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.

"She hands out bread for the poor sometimes," she answered.

"Do you have any idea where I can find her?" Marius inquired desperately.

"I know the way," she admitted reluctantly.

"Please, you must lead me to her. I'll pay," Marius said, digging in to his pocket for a few coins. He paused for a moment and seemed to realize something. "Oh, you're that Jondrette girl."

"Your neighbor, yes," Eponine said. She was honestly surprised Marius remembered her, unaware of the fact that her face had been haunting him that very morning.

"I'll give you this in exchange for the girl's address," he said as he put the coins in to her hands. "I want you to take this money and buy a good meal for your family, understand?"

Eponine looked at the money in her hand. She wished she had the dignity and will to refuse the money, but she simply didn't. She needed every coin she could get now.

"She lives on Rue Plumet, a big yellow house with a gate. You can't miss it," Eponine said. Marius smiled and thanked Eponine.

"It's my pleasure, Monsieur, to help you for your bit of kindness." Before Marius could rush off, Eponine asked, "How is Monsieur Enjolras? Do you know?"

"To speak honestly I have not seen him much as of late. He is very busy all the time," Marius said. He nodded his goodbye before taking off after Cosette, leaving Eponine alone again. She leaned against a nearby wall and kicked a rock with her toe absentmindedly.

She had just helped Cosette yet again, assuming Cosette had feelings for Marius as well. Her hatred for Cosette had not faded, but she did not feel any malice towards the girl. She hated Cosette for what she was, not who she was. But knowing Marius loved Cosette made Eponine hate her even more, knowing that Cosette loved someone who loved her in return. It seemed such an impossible thing to Eponine, that she would ever love someone who returned her feelings.

She shivered in her thin clothes and stepped out of the shadows, testing where her feet would take her this time. She still was not ready to face home yet again. She didn't think she'd ever be ready to face Azelma again, and she knew she never wanted to face her father again.

So Eponine put the inevitable return aside and let her feet take over, thought it seemed her heart was what led her on. Soon enough she found herself standing right outside the Cafe Musain.


	16. Chapter 16

_I spend years in the Gorbeau House and I do anything to stay away. I spend a few weeks here and I can't stay away for more than a few days,_ Eponine thought as she tucked herself away outside the Cafe Musain.

Outside of her new residence in the Beaumont estate there was nowhere else Eponine could turn to. And it wasn't just because she had taken shelter there, she knew that. Eponine may have deluded herself in to believing some day Enjolras may return her feelings, but she had not deluded herself in to believing her own feelings hadn't consumed her waking thoughts.

_He is hardly aware I exist, I'm sure, and yet just to see him again would make me happy._ She wavered outside, still unsure if she would enter or not. It was at this time she wished she had chosen to wear her nicer set of clothes in the chance that it might impress Enjolras._ At least my hair is tame,_ Eponine thought gratefully, fingering the curly locks still secured away from her face.

The door opened suddenly and Eponine pressed herself against the wall to avoid being unseen. She leaned her head out just enough to see a woman of red hair pumping water in to a bucket.

"Musichetta," Eponine stepped out in to visibility.

Musichetta wiped her brow and turned her head to see Eponine. "Well look at that, it's Eponine." She set down the bucket and approached the girl with a smile. "And what's happened to my dress? I knew I should have burned those rags you wear when I had the chance."

"I didn't want to get it dirty," Eponine explained with a shrug. "Er- miss, I just wanted to tell you.. I got a job now. The pay's not very good, no, but as soon as I get a bit saved I mean to pay you back fully."

"A job? Where?" Musichetta asked in surprise.

"I'm a maid.. In a rich folk's home, that is," Eponine clarified.

"You do need to be dressing better then if you're a maid," Musichetta advised. "Working girls don't go around dressed like that. People will think you're a trollop."

Eponine's cheeks flushed and she bit her lip. It was the last thing she needed to hear, especially from Musichetta. She was already ashamed of her attire and Musichetta's comment only made her more so. How she wished she had worn the yellow dress today. Cosette would not have thought her a beggar, Musichetta wouldn't have scolded her, and perhaps even Enjolras would have noticed the change.

"I didn't want to stand out," Eponine tried to explain, though she knew Musichetta couldn't possibly understand her fear of people seeing her for what she truly was: street trash presumptiously wearing proper clothes.

"That's nonsense, I gave you that dress so you wouldn't stand out," Musichetta said, clucking over Eponine's appearance. "But nevermind that, you should come inside." Musichetta turned and walked back in to the cafe without glancing back to see that Eponine was following her.

"Musichetta, where's the water I asked for?" asked Musichetta's mother when they walked in. She didn't seem to notice Eponine, and so Eponine took advantage of this to slip out of view.

"Right here, Mother." Musichetta placed the bucket on the counter. "Anything else needs to be done?"

"Refill these gentlemen's glasses," she ordered, indicating the small crowd slumped at the table. It was just past midday and the men were already wasted.

Musichetta refilled their glasses and though they made no sign of noticing her they immediately took to drinking from their filled mugs.

"I'll be in my room, I have sewing to do," Musichetta called to her mother, who kept her back turned while stirring a pot. She led Eponine in to the familiar room, much unchanged since her time spent in it, and shut the door behind her.

"What are you sewing?" Eponine asked conversationally. Musichetta picked something up from her table and showed it off to Eponine. It was a pin of red, white, and blue tricolor.

"Enjolras asked me to make them," Musichetta said, admiring her own handiwork.

"He did? What for?" Eponine picked one up and fingered the ruffles.

"Well, Joly was the one who asked me, but Enjolras requested Joly ask me. They're for their meetings I think, for all the supporters to wear," Musichetta explained. "Joly tells me about this revolution, but God knows what really goes on upstairs at those things."

"How many must you make?" Musichetta sat in a chair and indicated for Eponine to do the same.

"I don't know... As many as I can I suppose. I could use some help, actually.. if you know how to sew, that is."

"Alright," Eponine said, trying not to sound too eager. Even if Enjolras didn't know she was helping, she did feel better knowing she was doing her own part. Plus she owed her life to him and Musichetta.

Musichetta showed her how to make them, an easy process really, and the two went to work. Eponine had always been an effective seamstress due to her thin nimble fingers, but she made sure she was even more precise than usual while making the pins.

"Could I have one when we're done?" Eponine braved asking.

"Really? Why would you want one of these?" Musichetta furrowed her brow and examined the pin. "They're nothing special, really."

Eponine shrugged without looking up from her work. "To show my support."

"What do you know about any of it anyways?" Musichetta shot a sideways look at Eponine.

"Just what Monsieur Enjolras has told me, about equality and all that. He says he wants to help poor folks like me." _I know Enjolras is passionate about it, and that's enough,_ Eponine thought.

"And? You think he will?"

"I think he'll do anything to try," Eponine responded. Her thin fingers paused for a moment. He would give his life, if necessary. From what little she knew of him she already knew this was true given his reckless passion. "But I don't see how they can have so much faith and hope. It seems to me like nothing will ever change."

"So you mean to support this cause that you don't even believe in?" Musichetta said with a muted smirk.

"I didn't say I don't believe in it," Eponine said. "I believe in Monsieur Enjolras more than anything."

"There you go, talking about him again. You're just like all those other girls, aren't you, the ones always swooning over him," Musichetta said with a satisfied smile. "You should know Enjolras has probably never even looked at a woman, let alone mooned over one like you do over him. He's beyond all that, I think. Cares about the cause and nothing else."

"I am not swooning over him, I'm just grateful. He saved my life twice already for nothing in return. And I think there must be plenty he cares about," Eponine said.

"You are right, Enjolras does care about the poor. It is probably why he saved you. When he saw you he didn't see a girl, he saw rags and filth and couldn't help but try to rescue you. You are like any other poor person he has attempted to help."

Musichetta did not know how much her words hurt Eponine. Of course Enjolras had only seen her as an unsightly beggar, one of the many in Paris he was working to help. It confirmed Eponine's worst fears and she wanted to run, but instead she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"You don't think Monsieur Enjolras will ever see me as anything but a poor girl?"

"How could he? He is focused on one thing only and women don't fit in to it." For the first time Musichetta noticed Eponine's crestfallen expression. She sighed and frowned. "You can't take it personally, Eponine. Even if you were the prettiest bourgeois girl there is you'd be lucky for Enjolras to even smile at you."

"Yeah, you're right.

"The truth is Monsieur Enjolras knows nothing of what it is to be poor and not eating. Most of them boys don't. It's nice of them to want to help, really, but they couldn't be farther away from any of it," Musichetta said.

"You're not poor either," Eponine pointed out.

"Not very, no. Not like you. But I been living here my whole life picking up on some things. These boys wandered in here from university half blind, only seeing a few misfortunate people and thinking they could help. They haven't seen the hungry faces looking in the cafe windows, half-starved folks begging for food here, little kids who wander in with no means to pay. I may not be poor, but I know what it is to be poor more than them," Musichetta said.

"What d'you mean to say?" Musichetta knit her brows for a moment before shrugging.

"I don't mean anything by it. Just that they're fighting a cause not their own."

"But at least they're fighting for something," Eponine said.

* * *

Monsieur Enjolras twisted the letter in his hands as the carriage rolled along. He folded it and wrinkled the edges before smoothing it out again, absentmindedly repeating the process over and over again. The jostling bounce of the carriage only served to worsen the anxiety he tried to contain as his nerves were shaken.

He couldn't count the time since he had last seen his son, much to his own chagrin. He had believed Auguste's republican views were only a phase, a university game his son gambled on for his own enjoyment. When he had the left the house he did not expect him to be gone for more than a few days, a week at most.

_Perhaps I have been too hard on him, cutting him off,_ Monsieur Enjolras thought as he continued to press the letter together. Though he was a stern man he had always had a softness when it came to his only son. He couldn't imagine how the privileged boy was getting along on his own and had been deeply troubled to think of it.

And though Madame Enjolras was a somewhat cold, reserved, and private woman, he could tell she was worried just the same.

He wished he could beg Auguste to come home, or order him, or take him by force, but Monsieur Enjolras knew his son was too strong-willed to give up so easily. So alas, all he had for him was the impersonal, and now slightly crumpled, letter.

The carriage stopped abruptly and the side door was opened by the driver. "We are here, sir. The Cafe Musain."

Monsieur Enjolras stepped out and straightened his coat with letter in hand. He did not even know his son's new address, only that him and his friends spent much of their time at the Cafe Musain.

"Excuse me, is there an Enjolras here?" he asked the woman at the bar counter once he was inside. The place smelled of whisky and filth and the tables were primarily occupied by drunkards. A disgusting habitat for his well bred son.

"I'm afraid not, sir. He usually doesn't come until later in the evening," the woman said with a forced sweetness in her voice. She was unused to customers of such obviously high stature.

"Do you know where I might find him?" Monsieur Enjolras asked.

"I know where he lives," a voice came from behind the man. He turned around to see a young boy dressed in mismatched threadbare clothing with an unruly shock of black hair. His hands and face were covered in filth, though his large brown eyes held a spark of intelligence.

"And who might you be?" he asked the boy skeptically.

"Gavroche. A friend of Enjolras," the boy said with a proud grin. "Do you have somethin' for him?"

"I was hoping to meet him so I could give him this letter," Monsieur Enjolras said, slightly revolted at the boy who spoke so boldly to him. His stench was enough to ward anyone off.

"Not a problem, mister. I could give it to him for you," Gavroche said, holding out a dirt-caked hand to accept the later. Monsieur Enjolras frowned.

"I'd rather you give me his address so I can be on my way."

"You wouldn't want to go where he lives, it's not a nice place for someone like you. I could deliver it easily, promise!" Gavroche said.

"What do you mean it's not a nice place?" Enjolras's father said, twisting the letter behind his back.

"There's plenty of thieves and drunks and whores and the worst of all that. Best you might want to avoid it," Gavroche said with a knowing smile. Monsieur Enjolras relinquished the letter and placed it in Gavroche's extended hand. Instead of pulling it away Gavroche kept his hand out expectantly until Monsieur Enjolras reluctantly dropped a coin in to it.

"Thanks much, sir, I won't let you down," Gavroche said as he pocketed the coin.

"Can you ensure that my son replies to the letter as soon as possible? It is very urgent. Tell him that if I get no reply within a week he can expect another visit, one that's not so pleasant either," the man said.

"You're Enjolras's dad then? Great to meet you," Gavroche said, sticking his hand out again for a handshake. Monsieur Enjolras looked at in discerningly before placing another coin in it instead.

"Yes, very well. Get a move on then," he said. Gavroche quickly saluted him before running out of the cafe.

Once he was back in his carriage and well on his way home Monsieur Enjolras let out a hefty sigh. A part of him was glad that he didn't have to face his son and see what he had come to in his absence, but the soft part of him missed him even more for it. He could only hope he was getting along fine and wouldn't get himself in to too much trouble before coming home.

* * *

Enjolras had been holed up in his room all day as he attempted to get some studying done before the meeting that night. His studies had been suffering lately due to his commitment with the Friends of the ABC and he knew he needed to catch up. Getting his law degree would create another portal to improving France, although he was still some time away from it. He was only 19, after all, and still had many things to learn before he graduated university.

Marius had been out the entire day, a rare occasion in which he had woken before Enjolras. Enjolras did not know what Marius did with most of his time, but it hadn't plagued him much as he had more important things to worry about at the moment. Marius was probably a lost cause anyway. Passion could not be forced on someone so passive and, oftentimes, dimwitted as Marius. Such people frustrated Enjolras beyond means.

Knock knock knock.

Enjolras looked up and furrowed his brow at the interruption. "Who is it?"

"It's Gavroche! I have something for you!" Gavroche was a bit of a nuisance and a distraction at meetings, but Enjolras did admire his spirit. Even though Enjolras suspected that the boy knew nothing about the cause, he made up for his lack of knowledge with enthusiasm.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked impatiently as he opened the door. Gavroche produced a letter from his pocket and handed it to Enjolras. Enjolras turned it over and found there was no name or address written on it.

"From your dad," the boy explained.

Enjolras frowned and tore his eyes from the letter. "Thank you, Gavroche. Good day." Enjolras closed the door without another word and sat down with the letter in hand. The first form of communication he had had with his father in weeks and knew it couldn't be good news.

He tore open the envelope to lay eyes on a simple note in his father's writing.

_Auguste-_

_I hope you are well. Madame Enjolras and I do deeply regret these circumstances and expect you will return home very shortly once all of your affairs are settled and convictions vanished. Your behavior will only serve to further disgrace our family and compromise your education should it continue._

_While I find it all disagreeable, this is not my purpose for writing you today._

_Just because you are temporarily cut off does not mean you are shirked of your responsibilities. I must remind you of your engagement and the importance of this marriage to our family. We have carefully arranged it since you were but a child and to call it off now would be even more disgraceful to our reputation than your recent activities have been._

_I understand you have expressed your disinterest in marriage, but it is with absolute prudence that you must follow through and continue the engagement. I have arranged for you to dine with the Beaumont family in two week's time, on the 12th of November. If you do not attend the dinner and confirm your continued interest in your engagement to Mademoiselle Elise Beaumont, you will forever be cut off from the Enjolras name and will no longer receive the money necessary for your studies. I implore you to consider your future wisely._

_Gustave Pierre Enjolras_

Enjolras was still for a moment and stared straight ahead. It certainly was not good news. After rereading the letter twice he discarded it on the table and rubbed his tired eyes.

Since his first days at university he had had no intention of marrying Elise Beaumont. When he was a child she had been become his intended, a girl from a family of wealth and good repute equal to the Enjolras' own. Growing up he had accepted it as his fate with little objection. He had no interest in women and love, so why would he object to a marriage based solely in convenience?

However, his opinion had quickly changed when he went to university and was exposed to the outside world, where he had never realized there was so much suffering outside of his life of comfort and stability. As his love for liberty grew his familial commitments became a dismal flicker in comparison to the fire of his new found passion. He had admittedly nearly forgotten the engagement even, something he had dismissively discarded from his thoughts long ago.

And from the few times he had met her Enjolras had formed an opinion of Elise: she was extremely dull. Elise was everything his parents wanted for him: an established, wealthy, and obedient woman with few ideas in her head and a perpetual blank stare. But what his parents wanted for him and what he wanted to do with his own life were becoming two increasingly disparate paths.

He was not destined for the comfortable bourgeois life he had given up, that he knew, but now his future was at stake. Should he call off the engagement, he would lose all ties to his family and the money he needed to continue the studies that would allow him to better improve society. With this in mind he picked up a pen and scrawled the makings of a short letter in response.

_Father-_

_I am well and doing quite fine on my own. I understand your concern but I will not be returning home any time soon. However, I do accept the invitation to dine at the Beaumont estate and intend to continue my engagement to Mademoiselle Beaumont. I do hope it is clear that I have no intention to marry until I am graduated from university. I will continue my studies as you wish until then._

_Auguste_

As soon as he finished his studies he would be free from the commitment and could break off the engagement without worry of being cut off. Enjolras only hoped he could hold off his family until then.

* * *

Eponine traveled down the familiar road home, decidedly taking the bridge route this time- perhaps in order to delay her return even further. The cobblestone bridge, which had once given her such comfort and happiness, now only held haunted memories that she recalled as she passed over it. The railing- where the Patron-Minette had dangled her body threateningly, the water- which looked so smooth and glassy in comparison to the choppy waves of that night, the shore- where Enjolras's body had been connected to her own in his brave rescue. Even the chill of the air and relentless gusts of wind washed over her body like a nightmare, and yet her mind was at total peace.

_If I jumped now, would someone rescue me again?_ Eponine mused as she leaned over the railing with an odd smile. So peaceful, so calm, almost like bathwater. She wavered for a moment, staring in to the blue abyss, before tearing herself away and continuing home.

It felt utterly normal to return to the Gorbeau house. The ramshackled building was in the same disastrous shape, mice still lurked in the walls, and the stairs were as old and creaky as ever. Her door was much the same, even if the other side of it had been changed beyond repair.

Eponine hesitantly twisted the handle and let herself in the room, but the sight in front of her was enough to believe that nothing really had changed after all.

The room was empty aside from Azelma, who sat on their once shared bed like a puppy who had been neglected all day. Her hair was the same curly mess, her light brown eyes were round and empty as ever, and even her clothing was unchanged. Somehow Eponine had expected Azelma's recent prostitution to change the girl, but based on appearance she seemed the same Azelma she had always been.

A few seconds and Eponine ran to embrace her sister, who fully returned the hug with a tight squeeze. The embrace lasted nearly a minute before Azelma pulled away and looked at her sister with a hurt expression.

"Eponine, why did you abandon us?"

Eponine was taken aback. "I haven't abandoned you at all, 'Zelma. As soon as I was better I got a job, a real paying one, and I'm gonna be saving up money for us to live off of and everything will be good and you won't have to be a whore ever again."

Azelma slumped to the bed and unexpectedly let out a sob. "Papa.. Papa told you that?" Eponine put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"It's my fault. I took my time recovering too much," Eponine admitted with difficulty. "But it's okay now, you don't have to do that any more! I'll take care of us, I promise."

"I'm bad at it. The men.. the men don't like me. They say I'm ugly and worthless and too young looking, like a baby they say. They say I'm like a corpse," Azelma whispered through tears. Eponine tried to feel sorry for her sister, but instead rage and disgust boiled inside of her. _How dare such low-lives torment a lonely fourteen year old like Azelma!_

"They don't matter, 'Zelma, you'll never have to see them again," Eponine said, brushing the tears back from the girl's chubby cheeks.

"Sometimes I think they're right: I really am worthless. Papa says so all the time," she cried. Eponine pulled her baby sister in to another hug and rocked her back and forth.

"You're worth something to me. Scums like them don't count for anything. But promise me you'll never do anything like that again," Eponine said.

"They were so sweaty and gross and their breath was smelly, and they were so rough, Eponine." Azelma choked back another sob and hid her face in Eponine's shoulder.

"Promise me, Azelma, promise me you won't do it again," Eponine said, gripping the girl's small shoulders so that they were facing each other.

"Yes, I promise." Azelma nodded in illustration.

"Good girl."

Azelma pulled away and wiped the last tears from her reddened eyes. "Say, Eponine, what's this you got?" Azelma fingered the tricolor ribbon that Eponine had proudly pinned to her blouse.

"D'you like it? Something I made. It's for the students, the ones who meet at the cafe. You remember, right?"

Azelma smiled. "It's pretty. I wish I had something so nice."

Eponine returned her sister's smile and unpinned the ribbon to fasten it on to Azelma's blouse. "Now you do. And how pretty you look!"

Azelma fingered the ribbon happily and leaned her head on to Eponine's shoulder.

"Maybe one day when I've saved up enough money you and me can both have pretty things, just like we used to back at the inn. We can wear beautiful gowns and bonnets and I could even get us parasols, just like those nice lacy ones all the fashionable women have. And we won't have to stay with Papa either, we can go anywhere we want and be anything we want. Wouldn't that be nice, Azelma?" Eponine said.

"I'd like that," Azelma answered with a content smile. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

**For the sake of the story I changed Enjolras's age to 19.**

**And I realized they haven't interacted since chapter 10. The story is obviously very gradual (bear with me!) but I can definitely promise some more action in the future.**


	17. Chapter 17

Eponine had planned to visit the Cafe Musain that night during the Friends of the ABC meeting, but now that she was back with Azelma she didn't have the heart to leave the girl alone again. Besides, she was sure nobody wanted her there anyways. The two talked of Eponine's new job among other things while carefully avoiding more painful subjects.

"So are you gonna be honest now you've got a job and everything?" Azelma asked.

"So long as I can be honest, yes."

"I don't care much for being honest," Azelma said. "I only wish I could be like those bourgeois girls, y'know? Sometimes I see them with their fancy dresses and pale skin and I just hate them so much, I can't explain it. I just think, wouldn't it be so nice to be like them and walk through gardens without having to look over your shoulder or starve all the time."

"It would, wouldnt it," Eponine said, smiling at her sister. Eponine had had similar fantasies, of course, but she only wished she could be as simple as Azelma and believe them.

Eponine got up and looked through a crack in the sloppily boarded up window. The night sky was jet black outside, making her stomach drop. _What if the Beaumonts expect me back?_

"I have to go," Eponine told Azelma as she hurried toward the door. "But I'll see as soon as I get my next day off."

Azelma followed her sister down the stairs. "You'll have money next time?"

"Hopefully, if I'm paid by then," Eponine answered. When they were outside Eponine gave Azelma a quick hug. "Don't let papa force you in to anything else, got it?"

"Yeah I know," Azelma said, blushing. She was still shamed to think of it. "Bye, 'Ponine." Eponine's raven hair disappeared into the night shadows as she maneuvered home. Azelma let out a sigh and looked up at the sky, a black landscape sprinkled with dazzling lights. Paris really was beautiful, even if seen from the slummiest corner.

Azelma would have turned back inside but the night was too lovely to avoid, and for some reason she was infected with a carefree will, perhaps at knowing she wouldn't have to return to the brothel ever again. The air was cool, calm, and crisp, a delight to Azelma's senses in comparison to that putrid hellhole.

Just as Azelma was walking a hand grabbed her shoulder out of nowhere. With a gasp she turned to see a staggering unshaven man's long yellowed nails clinging to her coat.

"Wait a moment, little miss," he said, saliva pooling out of his rotted teeth. Azelma meant to pry his fingers away and run for it but she was instead frozen with fear.

"What- what do you want?" she finally spoke, though her body remained stiffly still.

Suddenly the man had two hands on her, and for an obviously intoxicated man he had a strong grip. In a moment of unexpected daring Azelma kneed the man in the crotch and took off running blindly down the street. She couldn't tell if the man was pursuing her or not, but all the same her feet were flying faster than they'd ever gone.

All of a sudden Azelma's foot slipped in a puddle and she came crashing down on the hard street, landing painfully on her shoulder. She curled into a ball, expecting the man to be upon her at any moment, but to her surprise nothing came. So he hadn't followed her after all.

Weighed down with defeat and humiliation Azelma stayed down for a few minutes, sobbing openly, before she mustered the will to get up in to a sitting position against the wall.

As she sat with her knees to her chest she decided she had never felt more pathetic or vulnerable in her life. Her clothes were now covered in mud, her short hair stood up in every direction, and fat fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving marks where they cleared the dirt. Self deprecating thoughts filled her head and wouldn't leave her alone.

_My life is terrible. It always has been terrible, hasn't it? But it's probably my own fault. Maybe God is punishing me for being such a bad person, or even he's punishing all of us. Papa is mean and angry and Mama is cruel, but what have I done? I tried to be good and do everything Papa asked of me but it's still not enough. It's never enough._

Azelma finally stood from her slumped position, only instead of turning home she continued to walk on down the street. She would have normally been scared to walk the streets alone at night, especially when she was in such fragile condition, but she thought nothing of it now. She would almost be grateful if someone accosted her to relieve her of the crushing loneliness and despair she hadn't been able to shake the past few weeks.

* * *

At the ABC meeting that night Marius sat at his own table, hardly aware of anyone around him. He was hardly even aware of himself- was he really sitting in a chair and not floating through the roof?

"What's wrong with you tonight, Marius?" Coufeyrac asked his friend in good humor. He had to repeat the question once more before Marius even noticed him.

"What's that?"

"You haven't said a word and you look strange and pale! You haven't been drinking with Grantaire, have you?" Coufeyrac grinned.

"I dare say he might be ill," Joly said, a concerned look plastered on his face. "Perhaps you should lie down."

"I'm not sick," Marius said. "I'm in love."

Grantaire laughed loudly and slammed his drink on the table. "What's the difference!"

The friends all had varied reactions at the news- laughing, shaking their heads, or smiling- but Enjolras frowned impatiently at the interruption. The friends were lost so easily to a careless distraction, with Marius being the fault once again.

"Marius is in love?" Courfeyrac said with a cocked eyebrow and amused grin. "What woman has stolen your heart?"

Marius shook his head. "I don't even know her name."

"But have you not met the girl?" Feuilly inquired. Marius shook his head once more.

"I saw her on the street only. I meant to follow her but she disappeared, and even when I was given the directions to her home I failed to find it. Now she is probably lost to me forever. What can I do?" Marius buried his face in his hand, half giddy and half anxious at his new love.

"Perhaps a love letter?" Jehan suggested. "If you can find her address and deliver it you may win her heart over.

A love letter was a good idea, but the only problem was Marius needed to find Eponine, his only connection to the mystery girl. She lived next door to him, yes, but he had hardly seen her around the Gorbeau House. Perhaps if Marius paid a visit to the Jondrettes...

"Now is not the time to be discussing such things," Enjolras said, interrupting Marius's train of thought. "We have more important work to be done."

"Enjolras, one without love cannot live on. One cannot survive with just bread," Grantaire expressed melodramatically.

With biting humor Enjolras said, "Grantaire, what you require is neither bread nor love, but rather wine." The friends laughed at Grantaire while Enjolras then turned to Marius. "Now go sort out your business on your own terms. We can't afford any more distractions."

Marius opened his mouth to protest but stopped at Enjolras's stern look. He left the Cafe Musain unfazed from Enjolras's frustration as his head was still in the clouds from his earlier encounter.

When he had seen the girl it was like everything disappeared and all he could see was the angelic figure. One moment she had been across the street in all her beauty and the next she was nowhere to be seen. He still wasn't sure whether he had been dreaming or not, but Eponine had seemed to see her, too, some confirmation that the girl did exist outside his imagination.

While he walked home Marius considered what to put in his love letter. He wasn't exactly poetic, not to mention he had very little experience in the field. He only wished he could capture what his heart felt and the way he couldn't breathe every time he thought of her. Surely that breathless wonder he felt upon witnessing her was true love.

Lost in his dizzy thoughts, Marius didn't notice the dark figure before it was too late, causing a straight-on collision between the two.

"Sorry," he muttered, straining his eyes to make out the person he had run in to. Even standing so close to them it was difficult to make out a face in the dark, but what he did see was a tricolor rosette pinned to their jacket, the very same that the friends of the ABC wore. "Say, where'd you get this?" Marius asked, gently touching the pin.

The person looked up and their face caught the light. It was a girl, childish and so covered in filth and mud it was hard to distinguish any of her features.

"It's mine, I promise! I didn't steal it!" the girl said, grasping the pin with her hand and turning her shoulder against Marius.

"That's not what I meant," Marius said, even though he wasn't convinced she hadn't. "It's just- Do you know what it means, the pin?"

The girl looked at Marius skeptically. "Only that the revolutionists are wearing them," she confessed. She self-consciously tried to wipe her face clean with her sleeve, leaving it only streaked with dirt. Her face held an air of familiarity to Marius but he couldn't place it. Her eyes, bold and dark with heavy lids and thick lashes, especially reminded him of someone.

"You are for a revolution then? To overthrow the monarchy?" Marius asked.

The mysterious girl's dirty face appeared unsure for a moment before she nodded zealously. "Of course, Monsieur. Anything but what we have now would be better, wouldn't it?"

"Enjolras will be happy to know the cause is reaching the poor," Marius said carelessly.

"My name is Azelma, sir," she said eagerly. "I am very interested in the cause, you know, just as you say."

"Marius," he said in way of introduction. "Spread the word when you can, girl. It's a good cause you support." He touched her arm lightly before continuing on his way.

Azelma felt the spot where he had touched her, a hot blush creeping to her cheeks. Monsieur Marius, the handsome student who lived next door? She had not recognized him in the darkness but now all her memories were flooding back to her with a happy rush. A moment of wavering and she turned around to head home, the same direction Marius had traveled.

* * *

Marius sat down with all the intentions of writing a love letter to the mystery girl, but several ink splots and crumpled papers later he still had nothing. If only he were as poetic as Jehan, or bold as Courfeyrac, or even as eloquent as Enjolras. If he were an artist he would even try to recreate her beauty, though he knew no one could ever truly do her justice.

If he spoke from his heart, which hadn't stopped pounding since he had first laid eyes on her, it would be truer than any love letter could ever be, even if written by Shakespeare himself. At least, that's what he hoped.

After giving up for the night Marius was still lying awake in bed, replaying the short encounter, when he heard the door open some hours later. He pretended to be asleep to avoid having to face Enjolras, who has undoubtedly upset at his lack of participation in the Friends of the ABC as of late. Marius had to admit he had been unreliable recently, but he was also frustrated at Enjolras's lack of understanding.

_Enjolras has never been and never will be in love,_ Marius thought bitterly._ How can he know how it feels, to be so utterly consumed with passion, to be stricken by beauty? Perhaps as a leader he ought to have some compassion for a tortured soul such as mine._

In fact, Marius had to stifle a laugh when he thought of Enjolras having a mistress. What kind of woman would she have to be to crack the man's marble surface?

Days passed, and though Marius's heart did not change the letter went unwritten and undelivered. He stopped by the church a few times to look for the mystery girl but had not yet chanced a glimpse, nor had he seen Eponine around the Gorbeau house or dared to visit her room.

He had only seen her for a moment, even though to him it had seemed an eternity, and she probably would think him crazy to appear before her now. But he couldn't force a change of heart after it was already made up.

His friends, of course, noticed the change that his love sickness had brought.

"Marius, why are you always so silent and brooding all the time now?" Courfeyrac asked him one day in the cafe. Marius looked up and acknowledged him but said nothing. "Don't tell me, you're still lovesick over that girl?" Courfeyrac laughed even upon seeing Marius's misery.

"What can I do?" Marius sighed.

Courfeyrac clapped his friend on the back and leaned back in his chair with ease. "Forget the girl, Marius, there are plenty more out there. Relax a little, find yourself a mistress! Good looking guys like us can have just about any girl we choose," he spoke in confidence.

"I don't want just any girl, I want _her_."

"Nonsense! You don't know what you're saying! Maybe Joly ought to check you out, seems like there's something wrong with your head," Courfeyrac said with a smile that Marius halfheartedly returned.

"Listen.. tomorrow we're all meeting by the Rue du Petit-Banquier. It will be refreshing to have one of our meetings outside instead of this cramped room, don't you think? Anyways, you should definitely come. You haven't exactly been active lately, and you know it would please Enjolras. Besides, it will help you take your mind off things."

"You're right," Marius said. "And it's not just the girl, I've been taking on a lot with my translating and studying."

"Sure, sure. Either way it'll cheer you up," Courfeyrac said with a charming smile. "And don't be late tomorrow! We have big plans!"

* * *

The next day the friends-apart from Marius, who was conspicuously missing- were all gathered outside for the meeting Courfeyrac had assembled.

"I don't really understand," Enjolras said, putting his hands in his pockets impatiently.

"What is it that you don't understand?" said Courfeyrac in his easygoing way.

"Why must we go all the way to the Rue du Petit-Banquier for the gathering of the Friends of the ABC?"

"Didn't I say it before?" Courfeyac said. "Because we are fighting for our fellow Parisians. Instead of keeping ourselves enclosed in the back room of a cafe it is important for us to walk out in the open skies from time to time."

"That does make sense," Combeferre said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Enjolras nodded in agreement and said nothing more.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," came a girl's voice. The group turned to see an assembly of six young women smiling expectantly in their direction. "And look, we brought lunch!" The girl lifted up a basket of food as evidence.

"Glad you could make it!" Courfeyrac said, greeting the girls pleasantly. "Everyone, I will introduce them. These are my lady friends I invited to our meeting this evening." The girls, who were all well-dressed and made up in the finest fashions, smiled and waved to the men.

"What on earth is the meaning of this?" Enjolras said, his expression a mix of astonishment, confusion, and frustration that was almost comical.

"Enjolras, you're as handsome as the rumors say," one of the girls said as she moved to get a closer look at the leader. The other girls followed suit and surrounded him.

"Isn't he!"

"His golden hair sparkles in the sunlight."

"Look at his eyes, so blue!"

"Looking up close he seems to be as beautiful as an angel."

A bewildered Enjolras turned away from the girls and frowned. "What is this, Courfeyrac?"

"I thought that for Marius to recover he needs a new love," Courfeyrac said, laughing along with the other friends at Enjolras's discomfort. "So I asked some lady friends for a day out, hoping Marius would take a fancy to one of them."

"When we heard Enjolras was coming too, everybody was happy to come along," one of the girls giggled.

"I see," Combeferre said, thoroughly amused. "But if everyone is smitten with Enjolras, Marius won't stand a chance."

"No need to worry," Couferyac said. "Marius is an honest young man, so they just need to get to know him and he will immediately show his virtues."

"And where is Marius?" Joly said.

"He said he'd be here," Courfeyrac answered, though he didn't sound too sure.

Almost as if on cue Marius came hustling up to the group. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. Um... are these people part of the friends of the ABC?" He looked skeptical but tried to be polite.

"In a sense," Courfeyrac replied. "They are all pretty ladies, don't you think Marius?"

"Um, yes, they are," Marius said, though he was practically itching with discomfort. From Courfeyrac's smug expression he could see the reason for the ladies.

"Then join us!" said Joly.

"Actually, I am too busy right now. I have lots of work to be done, that is. I meant to tell you that when I came here," Marius explained. "It was nice meeting all of you." With that Marius ran off as quickly as he had come.

"Hmmm... he really can't seem to forget that girl easily, can he?" Courfeyrac muttered.

"It will pass," Feuilly said. "He just needs some time."

"So what about that picnic? Just because Marius is gone doesn't mean we can't enjoy it!" Bousset said.

"Picnic?" Combefferre said. "We have all planned for a meeting, not a picnic."

"Why not both!" Bousset said cheerfully.

The meeting was far from effective, especially since their leader had to ward off all of the smitten girls, but the friends had a fun time anyways. With all of their planning and meeting it had been easy for them to forget time to time that they were only students, men not far past the age of living with their parents.

Enjolras had intended to intervene on the picnic for a serious meeting, but the looks on his friends' faces as they enjoyed the meal and company silenced him. How many more days did they have left to enjoy such a carefree happiness? When would come the true defining divide of boyhood to manhood, the moment in which they would choose what mattered most to them?

Enjolras had made up his mind long ago, but it was still up to the rest of the Friends of the ABC to choose to take up arms against the government. It seemed like such a distant conquest, but Enjolras knew there was still much preparation to be done. After today there was no time for any further distractions.

Apart from his dinner with the Beaumonts, of course, only a week away now. In his heart he was dreading it but in his mind he saw it as just another obstacle to get by on his map of action.

Oddly enough Enjolras thought of Eponine. Of all the things to think about his mind wandered to the curious Jondrette girl, perhaps because her eyes held a fire he hadn't ever seen in a woman. He hadn't seen her in near months, hadn't he? He hoped she was doing well, of course, but there was something else there that kept the image of the girl nagging at the corner of his brain. Enjolras assumed it was because she was one of the few poor people he had actually known, and so Eponine had given a face to the cause he was so passionate about. She was a prime example of the oppressed people the Friends of the ABC sought to raise up from the slums of Paris.

_Yes, this is why I think of her,_ Enjolras decided contently._ In a sense, she_ is _Patria._

* * *

Eponine laid down in bed but even beneath the warm cocoon of blankets she felt wide awake. It had been yet another tiresome day working at the Beaumont estate. The work was not terrible- mundane, yes, but altogether tolerable.

She awoke at dawn every morning, made her bed, washed her face, put on her uniform, and pinned her hair up in the style Musichetta had taught her. When she was all ready she made her way up the stairs to help the kitchen workers prep for breakfast, which she would then serve to the family, all the while practicing proper poise and etiquette to please Benjamin. Her tasks varied then, ranging from household cleaning to cooking to running errands in town, though she was always prepared to serve dinner as well. After the Beaumonts ate their early suppers Eponine had her own meal before she was given the rest of the night off.

Such an extensive amount of the night off every day would seem like a luxury, but to Eponine it was even worse than her chores. She had no friends in the household- Alice had all but shunned her- and was left confined to her lonely chamber. Eponine had snatched books out of the Beaumont's expansive library as a way to entertain herself, but her poor reading skills made it difficult to understand more than a few passages.

Eponine flipped over, trying to find a comfortable spot in her bed despite the fact that it was her mind preventing her from sleep. Sometimes she wished she could just turn her brain off and be free of her pesty thoughts, but of course they continued to keep her up at night.

_How long can I stay here?_ she thought to herself. The better question was, how long did Eponine want to stay there? She was not exactly domestic, and even though it was a steady paycheck and comfort an odd feeling of restlessness settled inside her. Eponine had never imagined her future much- doing so was only depressing- but she didn't want to grow old in the Beaumont estate and end up like Hilly- bitter and useless.

_What's the matter with me?_ Eponine turned over restlessly._ I have everything I need and yet... my life here is so dull. But there are things far worse than boredom. And my family is dependent on me now._

As much as Eponine tried to shake her discomfort with more reasonable thoughts she couldn't rid herself of the emptiness she felt as well as the yearning inside for something greater. Somehow the job didn't feel _right_, but had anything ever really felt in place? Perhaps working had thrown her entire perspective out of balance, all of the mindless work leaving her to reflect on what she had really left behind.

It was one of the longest nights yet, but eventually she managed to fall asleep.


End file.
